


The Question Falls

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ariel/Eric - Freeform, Client!Belle, F/F, F/M, I don't even know anymore, Lawyer!Gold, Maybe more later? - Freeform, Red Cricket - Freeform, Rumbelle Order In The Court, Sleeping Warrior, Snowing - Freeform, Swanfire - Freeform, at the moment just tiny mentions of the other pairings, despite the fact that their characters are nothing like rumbelle like at all, inspired by charlotte/harry from sex and the city, mentions of (deep breath) Dragon Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9588743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: Divorce attorney Gold knows better than to fall in love with a client. Really he does.Nominated for Best Courtship in the 2018 TEAs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sex and the City's Harry/Charlotte was the inspiration for this story, and I'm pretty happy with it so far. I hope you enjoy!

A folder landed with an unceremonious _thwack_ on his desk. “Congratulations, Gold, you’re getting the Lefleur case.”

“What? Why?”

David Nolan shrugged and took the armchair across from Gold’s desk. “I don’t really know. You stomped through the conference room looking like a bear with a bee sting and five minutes later she asked if her case could be switched to you.” He grinned. “Maybe she _likes_ you.”

“She probably thinks I’m more intimidating,” Gold pointed out. His handsome partner often had to fend off the advances of recent divorcees on the rebound. Gold had never had that problem.

“Well, you are, a lot, and she’s going to need it. Her soon-to-be-ex mother-in-law is a real piece of work.” Nolan stood. “I’ll let her tell you the particulars. The junior partners are pretty bummed that you got her, though; they were all hoping for a shot.”

“That lucrative a paycheck?”

Nolan shook his head and laughed. “Were you paying any attention at all when you blasted through my meeting?”

“I needed coffee.”

“So, no, then. Okay. She’ll be here in about an hour for your first meeting.”

Gold frowned as Nolan let himself out. When did the boy start making appointments for him? Gold opened the folder and began to familiarize himself with the case. No children, so no custody battle, thank God. Very few mutual assets, the only sticking point an apartment that the women were arguing over. There was little of Gaston Lefleur in the file, as if he had no actual part in the divorce proceedings; it was all more than a little odd.

A quiet knock on the door dragged him out of the file. “Yes, what is it?” he asked, shuffling the papers back into their folder.

“Mr. Gold, right?” The voice was unmistakably female and Australian.

“So it says on the door, dearie,” Gold sighed. He raised his head to look at the newcomer and his jaw dropped.

Jesus Christ. She was _gorgeous_.

The woman smiled. “Well, you never know, you could be an intern taking advantage of his lunch break.” She entered the room more fully and Gold hastily rose to his feet. In her sky-high heels she was only a few inches shorter than he. Her eyes, the most incredible blue he’d ever seen, swept over him. “But I doubt many interns can afford Armani.”

What? Oh. She was still talking about his little quip. But who the hell was she? “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” he said, thankful his voice hadn’t cracked like a teenager’s. “Who are you?”

She frowned a little. “Didn’t Mr. Nolan tell you I’d be coming? I’m Belle Lefleur; I asked for you to take over my case.”

Of fucking course she was. Well, now at least he knew why the junior partners had been vying over this particular file. If _this_ divorcee went on the rebound, she’d have no shortage of eager applicants.

“Ah, yes,” he said aloud. “Have a seat, dearie.” He indicated the set of armchairs in the corner of the office and, after collecting her file, joined her there. In his experience, trust was not best established across a large mahogany desk. “I have a few questions for you. First: why switch to me? Nolan’s a perfectly capable attorney.”

“I’m sure he is,” she replied, lowering herself into one of the chairs. “He’s also very sweet and charming. My mother-in-law will eat him alive.”

“So you asked for me because I’m decidedly _not_ charming?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and she looked thoughtful. “Well, you didn’t seem charming at the time.”

Gold wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Right, well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over the file with you. It’s a little scant on the details, and I need to know them. All of them.”

“All of them?” Mrs. Lefleur chewed on her lip again. “Really?”

“I don’t like surprises. The last thing you need is your mother-in-law springing something on me that I don’t know about. I have to be prepared for every contingency.”

“Right, of course. Okay.” She sighed. “We were married a little over a year; we were together for a few months before that.”

“Quick engagement.”

“He was The One. I was so sure of it.” He smirked, but refrained from mocking her, and was surprised when she mirrored his expression. “I’ll bet every single woman who’s ever sat in this chair has said something similar, hasn’t she?”

“Well...yes. The men, too.”

She giggled and his face grew warm.

“Any previous marriages?”

“No.”

“Children from another relationship?”

“No.”

“Any mutual assets not mentioned in your file?”

“No.”

He drummed his fingers on the folder, wondering how he could discover what he wanted to know without being too blunt. “The grounds for divorce…”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that. What are those differences?”

She looked unnerved for the first time, twisting her fingers together and staring at the floor. She crossed and uncrossed her legs - long, lean, _perfect_ legs - and finally rose, pacing a few steps. “Do you really have to know that?” she asked at last.

“I don’t like surprises.”

She sighed and pushed one hand through her thick auburn curls. “We, um...that is, _he_...he didn’t...he couldn’t…”

There were a million ways to end that sentence, but Gold knew better than to offer suggestions. He watched as she paced a few more times, apparently attempting to find either the words or the courage to say them. After another moment she returned to her seat, clenching her hands in her lap and staring at her knees. She still didn’t speak, and Gold at last prompted her.

“Was there an affair?”

“What?” She looked startled. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure.”

“Not for you, either?”

Her face burned bright red with shame. _Aha._

“No,” she whispered. “They expected there to be, but no.”

“‘They’ expected it? Who are ‘they’?”

“His family. His mother and sisters-in-law. It’s apparently something of a...tradition.”

“A tradition. For a Lefleur wife to have an affair.”

“Yes.”

What in the bloody hell had she gotten herself into? Were they in a sort of polygamous cult and she hadn’t been aware?

She took a deep breath and spread her hands out on her lap. “Gaston couldn’t...he couldn’t…perform.”

“Hence the divorce? There are pills for that, dearie.”

“It isn’t a physical problem. We separated for a bit a few months ago and we sort of...hooked up one night...and a few nights after that. There wasn’t a problem then. But when we were properly together, husband and wife, family dinners, talking about children...nothing.” Her lips were quivering, but whether with sadness or anger he couldn’t tell. “When I was some bint off the street giving him a blowjob in a movie theater everything was fine, but when we were at home in our bed…”

“I get the picture,” he interrupted hastily. _Too well._

Belle shrugged. “I thought maybe it would get better, but when we were in the Hamptons with his family, it sort of came out that _all_ the men in his family are like that. His mother had an affair, his sisters-in-law, his cousin...all of them, because the men can’t get it up for their wives. They were all so _blase_ about it! I just couldn’t...his mother sat there looking at me like I was crazy, and I wanted to ask her if she didn’t realize that _expecting_ the situation would create a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s incredible the family hasn’t died out; I have _no idea_ how she managed to have kids.”

“IVF, probably.”

“Oh, God, you’re probably right,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I felt like such an idiot. And poor Gaston…” She looked up when she heard the snort he couldn’t quite suppress. “No, I mean it. He loves me, I know he does. It hurt him as much as it hurt me. He was just _waiting_ for me to screw the gardener, or the mailman, or the pool boy. He expected to discover me with my paramour every time he came home, and he wasn’t angry or jealous about it, he was _resigned_ . Like he couldn’t do anything to prevent it, like it was inevitable. He didn’t trust me at all, and I just couldn’t live like that anymore.” Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and Gold handed her the box of tissues he kept on the end table. “I kept telling him I didn’t want anyone else, I wanted _him_ but he didn’t believe me. He never had.”

“Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Lefleur,” Gold said when she appeared calmer. “You see now why it was important for me to know? Your mother-in-law could easily have turned the tables on us and claimed that you were having an affair.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she sighed. “Call me Belle, or if you _must_ be formal, use my maiden name, French.”

“Very well, Miss French. I see that the main point of contention is the apartment. You claim that Mr. Lefleur gave it to you?”

“When I told him I was going to file for divorce, I also said I’d move out. He told me to stay in the apartment and he’d find another place. He said...he said I deserved it.”

“Ah. Well, as you no doubt know, the problem lies in the fact that he does not actually own the apartment.”

“Right,” she huffed. “I knew that was fishy. Why would you give your son an apartment in name only? The control issues in that family…”

“We’ll have to make a fairly strong case for your ‘deserving’ it, as the law is technically on her side,” Gold warned her. “How far are you willing to go?”

To her credit, she took a moment to consider his question. “I put up with his low expectations and his mother’s sniping and his family’s innuendo. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with him, and it’s not my fault I won’t be. I deserve to leave this marriage with _something_.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t say anything drastic, like ‘as far as I need to,’ but...pretty far. As far as I can go and still respect myself.”

Gold tried not to smile too broadly. “I’ll contact Mrs. Lefleur’s attorney and let you know when our next meeting will be. Until then…” He handed her a card. “Call me if you need anything, or if you remember anything that will make your case stronger.”

* * *

Belle French was really quite something, Gold thought to himself when she walked into the conference room. Mrs. Lefleur sat next to her lawyer, every inch the haughty society matron in a solemn high-necked dress and severe hairstyle, and she glared daggers at her daughter-in-law. The younger woman was dressed in another short, fashionable dress with four-inch heels, and it was clear that the harridan disapproved of every inch of her. Rather than cowering or looking sheepish, Belle tossed her head of curls and glared right back, taking her seat next to Gold.

“I see you’ve seen no reason to stop dressing like a common tramp,” Mrs. Lefleur sniffed.

“No, ma’am,” Belle answered sweetly.

“Disgraceful,” the older woman snapped. “I can’t wonder what Gaston saw in you, but I’m glad he came to his senses.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I filed the divorce papers, Beryl, not the other way ‘round.”

“Well, it’s clear what you were after from the beginning, anyway. I insist you relinquish all claim to the apartment and move out immediately.”

“Gaston gave me that apartment, Beryl, and I have more than earned the right to keep it.”

“You gave up that right when you gave up on your marriage vows. In my day those vows _meant_ something.”

Eyes flashing, Belle leaned forward. “Not the way I heard it. Don’t the traditional vows call for fidelity?”

Mrs. Lefleur’s face flushed and Gold, loath as he was to interrupt this truly glorious argument, stepped in.

“Mrs. Lefleur, you say that Miss French holds no claim to the apartment. Do you have documents to that effect?”

“Of course we do,” Albert Spencer said haughtily, pulling the deed and bill of sale from his briefcase and passing it across the table. “As you can see, the deed is in the Lefleur family’s name. Mrs. Gaston Lefleur has no claim to it.”

“Gaston _gave_ me that apartment,” Belle insisted. “He said so before he left for France.”

“It wasn’t his to give,” Mrs. Lefleur sniffed.

Gold took up the contracts and looked them over. He leaned closer to Belle and whispered in her ear. “It’s up to you, Miss French. This could be a difficult fight if Mr. Lefleur doesn’t step in for you.”

“All I want is the apartment. She can keep everything else.”

“Well, it appears we’re getting nowhere here,” Gold said turning back to look across the table. “Miss French will take some time to consider and we’ll revisit the issue next week.” He stood and tapped the folder on the table, then walked out of the conference room.

Belle was right behind him.

“What do you mean, consider?” she hissed when they were out of earshot. “I’m not considering anything!”

“I’m stalling, Miss French,” Gold said coldly. “I have an ace up my sleeve - or will have in a little while - and I need time. By all means continue to needle and prod your mother-in-law, it distracts her from the issue.”

“Can you imagine spending holidays with that woman?” Belle huffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall next to his door. “And you should have seen the apartment before I redecorated it. It was the place plaid furniture went to die. Not that I have anything against tartans in general, but one can celebrate one’s heritage without drowning in it.”

“Quite. I doubt you replaced the plaids with didgeridoos and boomerangs.”

She smiled, and the sheer brilliance of the expression nearly took his breath away. “You really do have something planned?”

“I do.”

“It has to do with Gaston, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you, then.” She made an odd little gesture, as if she’d thought about reaching for his hand but reconsidered. “See you later, Mr. Gold.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up in the meetings, and not in a good way. Belle and Gold receive some help from an interested party.

“When we were going to couples therapy Gaston told me I was a princess who deserved everything I wanted. Do you think that’ll sway things in my favor?”

“It’s a case of hearsay, unfortunately, dearie.” Gold drummed his fingers on his desk. “I’ve discovered a few more assets Mrs. Lefleur has been hiding. She really is determined to give you nothing, y’know.”

“I don’t want anything but the apartment,” Belle said sternly. “She could offer me millions and I wouldn’t accept it.”

She was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. And the brightest. The sweetest. The most beautiful. He fought back a groan and ran a hand over his face before turning his attention back to his phone. “Why is his mother handling his divorce anyway?” he asked.

There was a long pause. “Divorces are messy and unpleasant. Gaston doesn’t do messy. He likes things to be neat and tidy. Sterile, even.”

Except, apparently, when she went down on him in movie theaters. God, Gold wished she hadn’t told him that.

“Except when messy suited him, of course.”

Shit, she’d read his mind.

He’d now spent enough time in his office and on the phone with Belle to know that she was the exact opposite of neat, tidy, and sterile. She was clumsy and impulsive, passionate and bold. His office safe now held a chipped teacup she’d broken during their second meeting, when she’d gestured a little too violently and sent the cup crashing to the floor. She’d been positively distraught, but he’d told her it was just a cup and swept the pieces up onto his desk to be fixed later. (He’d never repaired the cup.) Halfway through their third meeting the conversation had somehow derailed into a discussion of what was considered classic literature and the inherent prejudices present in the academic world that determined which books were worth reading. He honestly couldn’t remember how the topic had come up, but she’d been so passionate in her defense of authors he’d never heard of that he hadn’t cared to redirect her. He enjoyed watching her eyes flash and her chin jerk up while she challenged him.

He enjoyed talking to her just a little too much.

The question of what she and Gaston had ever seen in each other had been easily answered: opposites always attract, though the attraction might not be sustainable. Gold could easily imagine that stuffy, stolid Gaston would be intrigued by her fire while she could be drawn to his steadiness. In the end, though, the differences that stretched between them like a rubber band had been too extreme, and the rubber, rather than pulling them together, had snapped and flown away.

More and more he felt sorry for Gaston, even as he thought him an idiot. Part of him believed that if he’d been in Gaston’s place, with this woman in his arms and in his bed, insisting that she wanted no one but him, he would never let her go. Another part - perhaps not larger, but more insistent certainly - reminded him that such a circumstance would never occur naturally and therefore it would only be wise to be skeptical. 

It must be a special kind of hell, to have loved and lost Belle because he couldn’t believe that she was truly his, to know that the only thing standing between them and wedded bliss was his own insecurities and fears.

* * *

The second meeting with Mrs. Lefleur was turning out to be almost unbearably entertaining. Belle sat in her chair with her arms folded and her gorgeous legs crossed, her face a picture of serene amusement as Mrs. Lefleur berated her for everything she could think of. Belle’s wardrobe, makeup, career choices, diet, and friends were all given their turn for Mrs. Lefleur’s vitriol. Whenever she appeared to run out of steam, Belle would smile. She would uncross her legs or arms (or both), lean forward, and deliver a riposte that would momentarily stun Mrs. Lefleur speechless. After a few seconds, though, the older woman would gather her wits and once more enter the fray.

Gold was vaguely aware that Spencer was trying to catch his eye and bring this completely unproductive meeting to an end, but he was having the time of his life and he didn’t care if he never left this room.

“Alright, ladies,” Spencer said finally, standing and leaning on the table. “I think we’d best leave it there for the day. As Mrs. Gaston seems unwilling to consider Mrs. Lefleur’s completely reasonable proposal,” and he gallantly ignored Belle’s indelicate snort, “we will continue this conversation at a later date.”

“I want this settled  _ today, _ ” Mrs. Lefleur insisted.

“So do I,” Belle said pleasantly. “Are we agreed then? I get the apartment and you keep everything else?”

“You will never have that apartment,” Mrs. Lefleur snapped. “You are a heartless little guttersnipe and Gaston is well rid of you. You never deserved him, and you are quite welcome to go back to that  _ whorish _ life you led before you ensnared my son.”

Belle’s face went pale. “What are you talking about?”

“You think I haven’t done my homework? You think I don’t know that you had dozens of lovers before taking up with my sweet, innocent boy?”

“My sexual history,” Belle clipped, her lips white, “is  _ none _ of your business.”

“It is when it endangers my family.”

“Endangers...I never put anyone in danger!” Belle shot to her feet, her hands clenched into fists.

“How can we be sure of that?”

Belle was breathing very hard and Gold could tell she was close to losing her tenuous grip on her control. “That’s enough, Mrs. Lefleur,” he said coldly, standing and stepping just a little in front of his client. “Your feelings aside, my client’s personal life prior to her marriage has absolutely no bearing on the proceedings of this divorce.” He glared at Spencer, who was gaping at his own client in shock. “I recommend we end this meeting immediately.”

“Ah. Right. My secretary will call yours, Gold,” Spencer said hurriedly. He and Mrs. Lefleur were almost out the door when Belle caught her breath.

“If you think for one second,” she said in a very calm, quiet, deadly voice, “that Gaston’s numbers weren’t well into the thirties by the time he met me, you need a serious dose of reality. And even if he’d been pure as the snow, I am not now and will never be ashamed of living my life as I see fit, Beryl. It’s not my fault you can’t say the same.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and stormed out the other door, slamming it behind her. Mrs. Lefleur sniffed and hurried ahead of her lawyer. Gold reached out and caught Spencer’s arm. “Make no mistake, Albert,” he growled. “If your client pulls a stunt like that again, I will not hesitate to have her escorted bodily out of the building, old money or no.”

Spencer looked more subdued and less arrogant than Gold had ever seen him. “I’ll have a word with her. It won’t happen again.”

When Gold opened the door to his office, he was horrified to realize that Belle was doubled over in one of the chairs, crying. Not quiet little sniffles, either, but great gulping sobs that sounded as if they would choke her. He closed the door behind him very quietly, but she still heard the click of the latch and looked up.

“Sorry,” she gasped, her hands swiping ineffectively at her wet cheeks. “I just...I couldn’t…”

“Don’t apologize.” He crossed the room and, for lack of any other ideas, sat on the table in front of her and handed her the handkerchief he always carried in his pocket.

She took it and stared at it for a minute, her face inscrutable, and when she looked up gave him a watery little smile. “People still carry these?”

“I do. I’m a person like everyone else, aren’t I?” he grumbled.

“I wonder sometimes.” She wiped at her cheeks.

And just what the hell that was supposed to mean he had no idea.

“I try not to let her get to me,” Belle said after a moment, “but sometimes it’s just too much.”

“She has no right to speak to you the way she does. I have Spencer’s word she’ll behave at the next meeting.”

“Maybe there shouldn’t be one,” Belle sighed, and his heart clenched. “Maybe this...maybe this is as far as I go.”

She couldn’t give up. He was so close to having what he wanted from Gaston, and if she quit now, she would walk out that door and get ready to leave her apartment. Maybe even the city. The state? She obviously wasn’t from around here. What if she left the country altogether?

He’d never see her again.

He felt something rise in his chest that felt an awful lot like panic, and he shoved it down.

“The next meeting will be better, I promise,” he said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’ve...I’ve been in contact with Gaston. I’ve been keeping him updated on the proceedings - I had a feeling he was only hearing a fraction of the story from his mother - when he hears about this...well, I’m sure he’ll have something to say.”

She looked up at him. “You’ve contacted Gaston?”

“Yes.”

“And you think he’ll say something that will be in our favor?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“I…” He didn’t really have an answer. He didn’t know the boy at all, but… “You said he loved you.”

“He did. Does.”

“Well, I...I can’t imagine that anyone who loved you would not want to give you everything in the world you desired.”

Her eyes widening, Belle stared at him and he felt his face growing hot. The hand that had been clutching the handkerchief reached out to touch his hand and she leaned a little closer to him, her eyes flickering over his face.

“Gold, Millie’s on the phone again and she’s breathing fire...oh. Uh, excuse me.” His back was to the door, but Gold could  _ hear _ the smug little smile in Nolan’s voice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Generally, Nolan, when one  _ knocks _ , one avoids such an unfortunate circumstance,” he snapped, standing and turning to glare at his partner.

“I should be going anyway,” Belle said softly. She held his handkerchief out to him.

“Keep it,” he said, waving it away.

“I’ll launder it and get it back you,” she said after folding it neatly and placing it in her purse.

He shrugged. “I have plenty. Won’t miss it.”

Belle smiled and, after what appeared to be a short internal struggle, stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Roderick.”

She’d stolen all of his thoughts right out of his brain. He watched dumbly as she walked out the door, snapping back to full coherence only when Nolan turned to him with a grin that threatened to split his face in two.

“Don’t,” Gold barked, holding up a hand.

“The hot divorcee just kissed you and you think you’re getting out of talking about this? No way.”

Gold ground his teeth. “She is not ‘the hot divorcee.’”

Leaning against the door, David let out a low whistle. “Uh-oh.” His smile had dimmed.

“What?”

“I know that voice. I’ve heard it before. That’s the ‘I’m falling for the client’ voice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re touching your face.”

Gold’s hand jerked away from his cheek. Nolan regarded him with sympathy, and Gold sat at his desk, pointedly ignoring him in hopes that he would leave. He winced when the younger man’s footsteps advanced into the room.

“It’s never a good idea. You know that better than most.”

With a sigh Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. He  _ did _ know.

“I’m not saying Mrs. Lefleur is gonna call the whole thing off and go back to him like Co - like  _ she _ did. But this is one of the worst times of her life and you’re associated with that.”

Damn it, David had a point. Gold lowered his hands and met his partner’s eyes. David’s lips twitched up in a sad smile.

“Want me to take over from here? You can go away for a few weeks, we’ll make up a family emergency. How long has it been since you visited Neal, anyway?”

“No. Thank you,” he added sincerely, “but no. I can handle this. One more meeting, or two...three, tops, and it’ll all be over.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

David turned to leave but stopped to grin over his shoulder. “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Get out.”

* * *

“Good afternoon.” Gold felt more cheerful today than he had in weeks. There was even a bit of a spring in his uneven gait and he bit back a grin as he hooked his cane over the back of his chair. Mrs. Lefleur and Spencer eyed him warily and Miss French looked bemused.

“It’s my hope,” Spencer said carefully, “that this issue will be settled once and for all today.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Gold agreed. Beside him, Belle looked at him curiously.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Lefleur sniped. “If I never set eyes on that little harpy again it will be too soon.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but Gold glared at Spencer, who paled and leaned over to whisper in his client’s ear. The older woman pursed her lips but nodded once, and Spencer sat back.

“Our final offer,” Spencer said, “is the collection of mint-condition coins guaranteed to Mrs. Gaston by the prenuptial agreement. She may keep or dispose of them as she wishes.”

“I don’t want the stupid coins,” Belle huffed. “Gaston promised me the apartment, and that’s what I want.”

“I am more than prepared to go to court,” Mrs. Lefleur snapped, “and if you think for one moment that the judge won’t find in favor of me you are…”

Gold’s phone rang from his pocket and interrupted her before she could finish her sentence and give him the pleasure of tossing her out of the building.

“Really, Gold, this is ridiculous,” Spencer protested as Gold pulled out his phone.

“I was expecting this call,” he said. A few swipes of his finger and Gaston Lefleur appeared on the screen. Belle smiled sadly and Mrs. Lefleur frowned. “Ah, Mr. Lefleur, I hoped we’d be hearing from you today.”

“Mr. Gold,” the younger man said solemnly. “Is everyone there?”

“Yes, and we’re all itching to hear what you think of this affair.”

“Gaston, darling, what are you doing?” Mrs. Lefleur demanded. “I told you I could take care of everything, you needn’t worry about a thing.”

“I guess we don’t agree on what ‘taking care of Belle’ means,” Gaston said sternly. “Mother, Belle was a wonderful wife. She did nothing wrong and she deserves everything she wants. Our divorce was no one’s fault - we simply weren’t meant to be together.”

“But she…”

“Seriously, Mother. Stop.”

Mrs. Lefleur’s mouth closed with a snap and Gaston looked away from her, meeting Belle’s eyes.

“Hey, there, Bluebell,” he said sadly. “Alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She smiled though her eyes looked a little teary. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babe. Talk to you later.”

Gaston signed off, and silence reigned in the conference room. Spencer was the first to break it.

“The apartment. Mrs. Gaston relinquishes any claim to any other part of the Lefleur estate or Mr. Lefleur’s personal fortune.”

“Done,” Gold said. Belle nodded. “I’ll have the papers drawn up so that Mrs. Lefleur can transfer ownership.”

Nothing more was said by anyone, although Belle kept glancing at Beryl nervously. Once or twice she seemed on the verge of speaking, but the older woman left the room without even looking at her soon-to-be-ex daughter-in-law. Belle’s shoulders drooped a little when the others were gone.

“Congratulations, dearie,” Gold said, attempting to sound careless. “You got what you wanted.”

“What I wanted,” Belle sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “What I wanted was love and family and companionship. What I wanted was  _ forever _ . What I got was an apartment.”

“It’s a bit late to change your mind.” His voice was a bit sharper than he’d intended, but dammit, he’d had this conversation before and he’d thought she was  _ different. _

“I’m not changing my mind. I wouldn’t even if I could. I love Gaston, but not the way I should...not the way I want to.”

“And what way is that?” He really shouldn’t be asking her this. It didn’t  _ matter _ .

“He’s a good man, but he’s so... _ superficial. _ Love is...love is  _ layered _ . It’s a mystery to be uncovered. And with Gaston...well, there’s no mystery. I never find myself wondering what he’s thinking or what he dreams of. He never surprises or challenges me. Love should be a meeting of the minds as well as of the hearts, don’t you think?”

He started. “I...I never really thought about it,” he lied.

“Weren’t you married once?”

Blinking, he turned to stare at her and noticed that her cheeks were turning an interesting shade of pink.

“After our first meeting I Googled you. David said you were the best and I just wanted some background. You were, weren’t you?”

“Yes. It didn’t end well.” Gold sighed. “Why does that matter?”

“There must have been a reason you separated. I’m not prying,” she said hastily, “I don’t want to know why. But you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yes. I understand.” He met her eyes and she stared back, the color on her cheeks deepening.

Her phone rang, jolting them both out of whatever strange mood they’d created. She dropped it once before finally rising and, with an apologetic smile, walking out the door, talking to whomever had interrupted them. Gold took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcefully, wishing his heart would stop pounding.

All that was left was to have the papers drawn up and signed. It was almost over. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's not quite 100% fluff but it's a lot of earnest conversations and Gold being smitten. And Belle, too, even if he doesn't realize it quite yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold deals with an unexpected visitation, and Belle's divorce progresses.

There was a knock on his door and Gold sighed irritably. “Yes, what is it?” He shuffled the papers on his desk into some semblance of order.

“Hi.”

The voice made his head jerk up and he would have stood if he could be reasonably certain he wouldn’t fall back down again. “Hey,” he replied, blinking a few times.

Belle French was standing in his office doorway, wringing her hands together.

“I’m sorry, did we have an appointment?”

“No, but I...I was in the area and I wanted to see you.”

Gold’s higher brain functions stuttered to a halt. Belle had no reason to be in this part of town. She lived in a Park Avenue apartment and worked at an art gallery in Soho. But why would she lie about that?

“Okay, so that was a lie,” she said with a nervous little laugh. “I came here to see you, I wasn’t in the area.”

Well, that cleared up exactly  _ nothing _ . “Was there something you needed?”

She bit her lip and glanced down at the floor, and when she looked up all vestiges of shyness and nerves seemed to have melted away and she was  _ looking  _ at him, her eyes burning into his and he wasn’t sure when he’d decided that standing and walking around the desk to face her was a good idea, but here he was.

“Miss French, what…”

Belle launched herself across the room and into his arms, which went around her waist on instinct. Her hands buried themselves in his hair and she pressed her lips to his, kissing him with an intensity that took his breath away. Tightening his grip on her, he pulled her flush against him, leaning back against his desk for support, and tried to answer her fierceness with his own, but she was overpowering. One long leg came up to the level of his waist and pressed against the desk, bringing her even closer, and he whimpered when he felt the heat of her core even through the layers between them.

Her hands left his hair and traveled down his neck to the collar of his shirt, where they yanked on the knot of his tie and pulled it free; she tossed the strip of silk to the floor and scored her fingernails down his chest. The intensity of her kiss tapered off a bit and she pulled at his lips with hers, taking first his bottom and then his top lip between her teeth and pulling until he thought he would burst into flames.

When she drew away a fraction of an inch he tried to chase after her, but she pushed against his shoulders until he was sitting on his desk - not, he thought dimly, something he’d ever considered, and there was a perfectly serviceable armchair a few feet away, and… His thoughts, scattered as they were, dissipated completely when she clambered up after him and straddled his legs, pressing down onto his lap and pulling his hair so that his neck arched. Belle pressed heated kisses to his neck and she shoved his jacket off his shoulders and his hands had just found their way into her hair when someone knocked on his office door.

“Go away!” he tried to say, but his voice was muffled by Belle’s lips and he doubted whoever it was heard him. Belle was attacking the buttons of his shirt, batting away his hands as he tried to get her attention, when the knocking sounded again, louder and more insistent. He wrenched his mouth away from hers. “Bugger off!” he snarled. The knocking continued, though, and if he couldn’t get Belle to stop soon…

With a start Gold opened his eyes to a very empty office. The lights were still on, there was a brief stuck to his face, his back was aching from the angle at which he’d fallen asleep, and...he glanced down at his lap and sighed. He was painfully hard, but at least he hadn’t  _ completely _ humiliated himself. To make matters worse, the knocking wasn’t part of the dream.

“What?” he shouted, scrubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes.

The door opened and David Nolan poked his head in. “Hey, you okay? I was knocking for awhile...were you asleep?”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Gold growled, dragging his fingers through his unkempt hair.

“I’ve got the Lefleur-French divorce papers here. One of the interns brought them to my office by mistake.” Nolan held the file out for Gold to take.

Gold stayed where he was.

Nolan raised his eyebrows and gave the file a little shake, as if Gold’s vision were movement-based and he simply hadn’t seen it. When David’s face lit with realization Gold wished he could crawl under his desk and die.

“I’ll just, uh...leave this here, then,” David said, his voice thick with amusement as he dropped the file on the coffee table. He was almost out the door when he seemed to remember something. “Oh, Regina is having a dinner party this weekend and she asked us to invite you.”

“What, no formal invitation?”

“She literally said, ‘Make sure you invite that grumpy bastard Gold, too.’”

“I’m flattered.”

“So it’s this Saturday at 7. If you’re up for it.” David winced at his choice of words and tried again. “I mean, if you wanna come. I...I mean…”

“ **_GET OUT._ ** ”

David shut the door quickly, but not before Gold heard him chuckle. With a groan Gold rose to his feet and limped to the table to retrieve the file. He flipped through the contents, allowing the dry legal jargon to envelop his brain and drown out any other heated thoughts. They certainly looked ready, and God knew he’d been picky enough about the language over the last week.

He returned to his desk and took a deep, steadying breath before dialing a number that he really  _ shouldn’t  _ know by heart.

“Hi, Mr. Gold!”

She always sounded so damn happy to hear from him. He’d never had a client so thrilled to talk to her divorce attorney before.

“Good afternoon, Miss French. Do you have time to talk?”

“With you? Always!”

Why did she have to say things like that? His stupid heart beat a little faster. “Spencer’s minions just dropped off the final draft of the divorce papers. Everything looks in order. Would you like to make an appointment to sign them?”

“Of course. Only...rats, I’m booked solid this week. D’you think you could come by tomorrow afternoon? I have a couple of appointments but I’ve got a window between one and two, and I wouldn’t have time to run down there, sign stuff, and then run back.”

“That’s no problem,” he assured her. “I’ll see you tomorrow around one.”

“It’s a date!” she chirped, and signed off.

“Oh, shut up,” Gold muttered to himself and his suddenly very interested lower half. “She didn’t mean it like that.” No change. No one listened to him anymore, not even his own body. Well, Gold thought, getting to his feet again, personal bathrooms existed for a reason.

* * *

When Belle opened to his knock, Gold felt the breath leave his body as if he’d stepped into a vacuum. Running shorts and a sports bra. That was it. That was all she was wearing. Her thick dark hair was swept up in a ponytail and little rivulets of sweat were trickling over her skin.

“Come on in, Mr. Gold,” she smiled, opening the door a little wider. “Sorry about…” she gestured vaguely to herself, “I was with my personal trainer.”

He reminded himself that he was fifty-two and a brilliant and eloquent lawyer. There was no reason for him to be struck dumb by this woman every time he saw her. Nodding in acknowledgement, he stepped into the tastefully decorated foyer. She led him to a living room - was walking in front of him in those shorts really  _ necessary? _ \- and made a sweeping gesture with one of her hands.

“Sit anywhere you like. I’ll get us some iced tea.”

Excellent. He would have a moment to convince his brain and vocal cords that this was not the time to take a sabbatical. Digging through his briefcase, he came up with the at-long-last finalized divorce papers. All she needed to do was sign, and then he would file them with the judge and she would be free.

And he would probably never see her again.

He had a wild urge to burn the papers. He could claim they’d spontaneously combusted.

Disgust welled up inside him and he clenched his hands into fists, allowing the nails of his fingers to dig into his palms. He  _ knew better _ , damn it. Her fondness for him was not real: he was the man who had gotten her out of an impossible situation, had forced her harpy of a mother-in-law to back down, and had ensured that she could stay in her home for as long as she wished. Once he was out of her life she would forget about him and meet another handsome young buck to marry, one who would worship her in all the ways she dreamed of. And that was how it was  _ supposed _ to be. There was nothing new or original in any of this. He was the only one suffering, here, and that was just because he was an idiot who had broken the cardinal rule of being a divorce lawyer: don’t fall in love with the client.

Belle re-entered then with two iced teas, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that she hadn’t changed out of her workout clothes. Or at least put on a T-shirt or something. She set his glass on the coffee table and sat, not on the armchair across from him, but on the sofa directly beside him.

“Here’s to freedom,” she smiled, holding up her glass as if for a toast. He touched her glass with his own, took a sip, and set it down, not trusting his hands at the moment.

“Well, here we are,” he said cheerily, setting the papers before her and handing her the pen from his shirt pocket. “A few signatures and the deed is done.”

Her eyes searched his face before plucking the pen from his fingers. “And this...this is really it? Are you sure there aren’t any more clauses that need to be reworded? No more errors in syntax? No more words that could be exchanged for a more specific synonym?”

Gold squirmed a little as she enumerated all of the excuses he’d given for not having her sign the papers  _ just yet _ .  _ A little more tweaking, dearie, don’t want you signing away something without knowing you’re doing it _ . “This is it. Three signatures and you’re free of us all.”

His pen hovered over the paper. “Us all? What does that mean?”

“Ex-husband, ex-mother-in-law, attorneys, judges, the whole lot of us. Gone from your life for good.”

He could feel Belle’s eyes on him, but he’d looked down to study the carpet. She really did have excellent taste. Perhaps he could hire her to redo his own gloomy apartment. That would be a way to see her again. A pathetic, transparent way, perhaps, but…

Her hand was on his arm and he couldn’t then avoid looking up at her. Her eyes were large and luminous, and he thought he saw a smile lurking somewhere in their depths. “I didn’t realize I was divorcing you, too,” she said gently.

He shrugged. “You won’t want reminders of your marriage, dearie. It’s only natural.”

“You don’t remind me of my marriage. You help me forget about it, or at least think about it as a stage of my life that was necessary for growth but well behind me now.” She twirled the pen in her hands. “I don’t want to sign this and have you use it as an excuse never to talk to me again.”

“Miss French...”

“Belle.”

He swallowed. “Belle.”

“It might sound silly, but...I’ve started to think of you as a friend. I like you, and I thought you liked me. Was that just me projecting?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, then...I’ll sign these and...we’ll meet up for coffee sometime?”

“Sure.” It would never happen. He knew that. After a week of not seeing or talking to him she would remember that she had other friends. Better friends. Probably younger, fitter, more handsome friends. He would never hear from her again.

She smiled brightly and leaned over the coffee table to sign the papers and he tried very, very hard not to watch too closely, but she was so beautiful and so close and wearing nothing but a sports bra and he wasn’t made of stone.

“There!” She slapped the pen on the table and beamed at him. “Done! I am Belle Lefleur no more!” She frowned. “Well, actually...for a little while longer, I guess, until the name change goes through. Oh, well, that’ll be something else to celebrate.”

He tried to smile, but from the look on her face he didn’t think he was entirely successful. “I should go, let you get to your next appointment.”

“Yeah, sure! Thanks for coming by.”

She walked him to the door, kissed him on the cheek again (good fucking grief) and waved him on his way, and Gold let out a long, slow breath as he waited for the elevator.

It was over. Finally over.

He should feel relieved, but really he felt...sad.

And aroused as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A ratings bump? Nothing I've ever written has exceeded T, and I'm still not 100% sure M is necessary for this fic, but...I figure once erections and implied masturbation come up I'd rather be safe than sorry. And since this is my chosen venue for Rumbelle Order in the Court in April, I guess I'd better practice writing some steamier stuff.
> 
> What did you think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold is baffled when Belle continues to act like she wants him around. He also goes to a party that is...less than enjoyable.

Gold stared at his ringing phone, his brain whirling. He recognized the name and number, but why on Earth was she calling at seven o’clock on a Friday evening? Surely she had better things to do, better people to talk to? What could she want or need that wouldn’t wait until Monday?

The call went to voicemail and Gold breathed a little more easily. She’d had his personal number since early days in the case, when he’d needed to reach her one night and couldn’t be bothered to dig his business phone out of his briefcase. He waited for the notification of a voice message and then listened to it, feeling like a stupid teenager screening calls, hoping to hear from his crush.

“Hey, Gold, it’s Belle. I was just...calling to check in, I guess. See how you felt about getting that coffee we talked about?” There was a pause, and Gold took a moment to wonder if she really did sound as nervous as he thought she did, or if that was his besotted brain playing tricks on him. “Anyway, call me if you get a chance.”

He shook his head and tapped the screen to play the message again.  _ Calling to check in _ ...check in about what? What business did they have that she would need to check on? She couldn’t mean to check on him personally, could she?  _ how you felt about getting that coffee _ ...Had they actually talked about getting coffee? He remembered her saying something about it but he didn’t think any decisions had been made and he certainly didn’t remember agreeing.  _ call me if you get a chance _ ...Well, he had a chance now, but it didn’t sound urgent, and if he called now she would know he’d screened her call. She’d want to know why he hadn’t answered immediately and even if she didn’t ask she would definitely wonder. But how long should he wait, then? An hour? Or perhaps a day? That would make more sense, wouldn’t it? But this wasn’t 2003, and no one really waited until the end of the day to listen to voicemails, did they? No, she’d certainly expect him to return her call sometime tonight.

And now he was breaking out in a cold sweat as he imagined her  _ waiting _ for his call, and ye gods, what was he going to say?

He put the phone down and rubbed at his eyes, willing his anxiety to calm. Even if she  _ was _ waiting for him to call, she could wait a little while longer while he corralled his thoughts. He would ask what she needed, talk her through whatever the problem was, and hang up. If she mentioned coffee, which he doubted, he would have to play it by ear. Name a day just so she could lament that she was busy, but some other time? Right.

He called her before he could second guess himself, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t expecting to get her voicemail.

She answered on the second ring.

“Hey!”

“Hello...Belle.” That part was still a little strange for him. “I got your message. What can I do for you?”

For several seconds she said nothing. “Um...I don’t really...I mean, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to…”

In all the months of their acquaintance he’d never heard her sound so uncertain. Oddly he found himself relaxing in response.

“How’ve you been?” he asked when her voice trailed off.

“Good! Busy, mostly, there’s a show at the gallery next week and we’ve had to do a bit of rearranging. The artist’s fairly picky about how his sculptures are displayed, so we’ve had to get creative with lighting and pedestals and all that. How about you?”

“The usual. Alimony, custody battles, division of assets. Sometimes I even get to practice a little law.” He smiled when she laughed.

“I hadn’t heard from you since you were over, and I realized we never did set a date for that coffee we talked about. What’s your day look like tomorrow?”

“Ah...lunch with a client and then dinner at a friend’s. Bit busy.” Perhaps whatever she wanted or needed was too delicate to discuss over the phone. That was the only explanation he had for her fixation on this coffee get-together.

“Okay. What about Sunday, then?”

Gold pretended to think about it while his mind was racing again. “That works for me.”

“Great! How about one o’clock? I’ll text you the name of the place.”

He agreed and they both hung up, his phone chiming a few seconds later with the name of a diner near her apartment. He was really rather proud of how well he’d handled the conversation. Face-to-face interaction might be a little more challenging, but Regina’s party on Saturday would give his interpersonal  skills just the warmup they needed.

* * *

Gold knew something was wrong the moment Regina opened her door. Her expressive face was a picture of angry apology.

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered, gripping his sleeve with her perfectly polished fingernails and hauling him inside. “I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he demanded, wrenching out of her grasp.

“Darling!”

The crooning voice froze him in place. A red-haired woman was bearing down on him, her green eyes glittering and her smile stretched wide. In her heels she was two inches taller than him. Wrapping herself around his arm she smiled into his eyes.

“Zelena,” he growled, leaning away from her touch. “This is a surprise. Regina didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Oh, she didn’t know! I was in town for a conference and thought I’d just drop in,” Zelena laughed. “You should have seen her face!”

“Yes, you could have knocked me over with a feather,” Regina clipped.

Gold tugged experimentally at his arm, but Zelena gripped him more tightly. “Regina, tell me you have a full bottle of Johnnie Walker with my name on it.”

“Of course.”

“Oh! I’ll get it for you,” Zelena said eagerly. “Don’t budge!”

She swept away and Gold turned to Regina, who was red with embarrassment. “God, I’m so sorry,” she moaned, rubbing at her forehead. “She just  _ showed up _ and you know how she gets...there was no getting rid of her, especially when she found out about the party.”

“I will not play nice with her, Regina, even for you.”

“I don’t expect you to. Maybe you’ll be rude enough to finally get rid of her.”

Gold raised his eyebrows. “The last time I saw her I threatened to toss water on her so she would melt. She giggled and said all I needed to do to make her melt was say her name. What exactly do you expect me to do, slap her?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“You owe me,” he sighed.

“Big time.”

“Here we are!” Zelena had reappeared with a generously filled tumbler in her hand. Gold nodded in acknowledgement, took a sip, and made a face.

“What is this?”

“Johnnie Walker, just like you asked for!”

“What label?”

“Red, I think.”

“I did say ‘with my name on it,’ didn’t I?” Gold snarled.

“I don’t...Oh! that’s so clever! You meant the Gold label of course! I’m so silly, why didn’t I think of that?”

“I believe you just answered your own question.” With a huff Gold stalked to the bar to pour his own drink.  _ Of course _ she wouldn’t have understood his obscure hint; how irrational and ridiculous would he have to be before she would leave him the hell alone?

It was a  _ very _ long night. Regina had enlisted David and his wife Mary Margaret into a line of defense, of sorts, and they did their best to keep him occupied, but Zelena was like a bad stench - ever-present and impossible to ignore. She hovered at his elbow, whispered in his ear, giggled at his surliest remarks, and even “accidentally” brushed her hand across his backside once. Regina forced her sister to sit across the table and two places down from him, or he would probably have had to endure even worse indignities.

When the night was winding down he had to shut down three attempts to share a cab, and when he finally admitted he was driving his own car it seemed as if he would actually be forced to take her to her hotel.

“You’re leaving?” Regina exclaimed when she realized Gold was cornered. “But Zee, I’ve barely talked to you! You said you were flying back to London tomorrow; I was sure you’d spend the night here.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose, Gina, dear.”

“Impose? Don’t be silly. It’s been so long since we had a real visit. I  _ insist _ , Zee.”

Zelena glanced around at the very interested party guests and smiled brightly. “Well...of course, sis. That would be marvelous.”

“Wonderful. Lovely to see you, Gold!” Regina practically shoved him out the door with a wink and a smile, and he was free.

The night air was crisp and clear, and if he lived closer and had two working feet he’d have walked home and returned for his car in the morning. Unfortunately, his apartment was nowhere near Park Avenue, and he would have to settle for driving with the window down. It hadn’t exactly been the relaxing evening talking with people he didn’t loathe he’d expected, but at least he’d reminded himself that he could in fact hold up his end of a casual conversation. After a night fending off Zelena’s advances, the next day’s meeting with Belle would be a welcome reprieve.

* * *

Gold didn’t want to think about how long he’d stood in front of his bathroom mirror trying to convince himself that he didn’t look as old as he knew he did. He’d never thought much of his own looks, but meeting a lovely young woman for coffee had awakened old insecurities that he wished had remained buried.

He saw Belle before she saw him, seated near a window and reading a thick book. She kept looking up, however, her fingers drumming on the pages of the book. As he drew closer, he saw that she was biting her lower lip.

Was she  _ nervous _ ?

When Gold was just outside the window, she finally saw him and the brilliance of her smile nearly took his breath away. She waved him in and leapt to her feet when he approached her table.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Long time no see!”

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s only been three days.”

“Well it  _ seems _ longer.” She poked his arm with her finger. “I did talk to you pretty much every day for a month, y’know.”

“Hm.”

They were interrupted by a gum-popping waiter who took their orders with studied nonchalance, and then Gold was left to wonder what the hell he was doing here. She had no files or envelopes with her, and there was absolutely nothing in her eyes or smile to suggest that she was in any sort of trouble. In fact, she looked positively cheerful, leaning back in her chair so that the sun gleamed in her auburn hair.

“You said you were at a dinner last night? Somewhere special?”

“An old friend’s - I’ve known her a long time.”

Her smile dimmed a bit. “Oh. Was it just the two of you?”

“David and his wife were there - you remember David Nolan - and a few more of her friends. And her sister.” He couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice.

“I take it you’re not a fan of her sister.”

Gold grimaced and shook his head. “Insufferable woman.”

“I hope you enjoyed yourself anyway.”

Shrugging, Gold reached for his drink and wondered what that searching look in her eyes meant. “It was alright. I’ve known Regina since she was a little girl and she’s pleasant company, and she’s always known how to entertain guests.”

Belle let out a little breath and sipped her own coffee.

“How was your weekend?” Gold wasn’t sure what had caused the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, but his question appeared to be the right one.

“Work stuff, mostly. When we have a show coming up I spend a lot of time at the gallery. And that’s fine, because it’s just me at home. Maybe I should’ve had a dinner party too; that apartment gets pretty lonely.” She ran her finger around the brim of her coffee cup and glanced up at him. “I’m, uh...actually thinking of selling it.”

“What?” Gold froze with his cup in the air. “After everything you went through to keep it?”

“It’s just such a  _ big _ apartment, y’know?” Belle fidgeted a little in her seat. “I never really envisioned living in it alone, and I’m such a shrimp. I feel like I’m rattling around in all that empty space and...well, I think I could do with a change.”

“You won’t always be alone,” he said before he could think it through.

“You think so?” Her eyes were glowing suddenly and she smiled brilliantly.

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“You’re…” How had he got roped into this conversation? “Well, I mean you’re…”

She propped her chin on her hands and grinned even more widely. “I’m?”

Gorgeous. Incredible. Breathtaking. Perfect. 

“Nice.”

For a moment she looked taken aback, but she recovered quickly. “Really? Nice?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes bore into his for a moment more. Whatever she found there must have satisfied her, because she leaned back in her chair again and smirked at him. “Hm. Well, for the record, I think you’re... _ nice _ ...too.”

“Um. Thank you.”

Belle tilted her head. “You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor, would you? Since I’m thinking of selling, I’m kind of looking for a new apartment. Not, like,  _ actively searching, _ but I have a few feelers out. If I go see a place, would you mind coming with me?”

“I...Well, I suppose not. Don’t you have someone else you’d rather take?”

She hummed and scrunched her face up in thought. “Nope.” Her eyes swept over him in a way that made him feel a little overwarm. “I’ve been in your office and you obviously have very good taste, and I trust your judgment.” When he didn’t answer, some of the light went out of her eyes. “Of course, if it’s too much trouble…”

“No, no,” he said hastily. “I’d need a day’s notice in case I need to reschedule something, but…”

“Great!” She snatched up the check the waiter had brought over before he could reach it and winked at him. “You can buy next time.”

Next time?  _ Next time? _

Before he could formulate a response, her phone rang. Belle cursed, fishing it out of her bag. “Sorry, I’ll just...Hello? What?” Her voice lowered in pitch. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought...no, no of course you’re right, there’s no way...we’ll make it right, I pro-- yes,  _ I’ll _ make it right. I’m on my way right now.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone and dropped it back in her purse. “I’m so sorry, Gold, that was Jeff Bucket, the artist for the show I told you about. He’s a little unhhppy with our setup and we open tomorrow, so…”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m  _ really _ sorry. Things should calm down after this show, though. I’ll talk to you later?”

He nodded and rose, scarcely surprised when she pressed yet another kiss to his cheek. He even briefly considered returning the gesture, but she was out the door before he’d decided.

Just as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I UPDATED THIS STORY WHAT
> 
> I've actually had this chapter sitting around for awhile but it's here now...and I have the next chapter mostly written and I REALLY REALLY LIKE IT.
> 
> So. Enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold goes with Belle as she looks at a potential new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a smut-writing virgin no more.

Over the past two weeks Gold had seen more of Belle than he’d ever seen of anyone besides his ex-wife. They’d had lunch twice, coffee four times, and tonight she’d somehow acquired an extra ticket to the symphony that she wanted him to have. He had just finished changing into his best black suit - enlivened a bit with a pink silk shirt and darker pink tie for the occasion - when a knock on his office door announced the arrival of his partner.

“Gold, have you...whoa.”

Hastily Gold looked down at his clothes. Had he spilled something? Missed a button? No, everything was impeccably clean and in the right place.

“You, uh, look pretty sharp tonight.” David frowned, looking puzzled. “Big plans?”

“The symphony with a friend. Did you need something?”

“You haven’t seen the Johnson file, have you? I can’t seem to find it.”

“No. Have you asked one of the junior partners?”

David shook his head, still apparently perplexed. “Which friend, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.” His phone rang and Gold snatched it up. “Belle, hey.”

“Hey! You ready? I thought we could grab a drink first.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll be down in half a minute.”

When he hung up, David was gaping at him. “Belle? As in  _ Belle French _ ?”

“Unless you know another Belle,” Gold grumbled.

“You’ve been dating Belle French?”

“No, of course not!”

“Uh-huh.” David crossed his arms. “Did you even hear your own voice just now?”

He hadn’t paid attention, but he’d bet he sounded much too happy to hear from her. Eager, even. “I need to go.”

“You didn’t see your face either.”

“David…” Gold sighed. “I am  _ not _ dating her. We’re friends. She  _ wants _ to be my friend. Do you know how few people actively seek out my friendship?”

David snorted. “Not as few as you think.”

Well, what was that supposed to… Oh. Gold fidgeted with his cane, unable to meet David’s eyes. “I, uh, I don’t...”

“You’re suspicious and kinda cranky, and it’s not easy to get on your good side. I know that. But you’ve got a big heart, and I guess I’m just worried that this is gonna bite you in the ass.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Gold said softly. “I do. But Belle isn’t like Cora. Not at all.”

David studied him for a moment, then moved away from the door. “You know her better than I do, so I’ll just have to trust you on that. Enjoy the symphony. And Roderick...if she  _ isn’t _ like Cora...maybe consider dating her after all?”

He didn’t know what to say to that, but Belle was waiting downstairs. He tried to put what David had said out of his mind. Belle wasn’t interested in him that way, and if David thought she was he was just reading too much into things. But all night long extra little thrills went through him when she took his arm, or leaned over to whisper an observation in his ear, or brushed lint off his shoulder. He knew she was a tactile person who showed affection through touch - simple,  _ platonic _ affection - but David’s words haunted him. Didn’t the boy realize that if being with Belle was a viable option Gold would leap at the chance?

But it wasn’t, so he remained with his feet firmly on the ground. If his heart jumped all over the place like a gymnast whenever she so much as smiled at him, he couldn’t exactly control that, could he?

* * *

Gold fidgeted in the living room of the Manhattan apartment. It was quite a departure from the Park Avenue palace she lived in now, but she had said she wanted less space. Belle was in the kitchen looking at the appliances, and he was frowning at the crown molding.

Whoever had decorated this place had appalling taste.

“I think the bedroom is through here,” Belle chirped as she crossed the living room towards another door. “Should we take a look?”

He waved her on and tried to remember how he’d gotten roped into this in the first place.

Oh, right, she’d asked.

_ “Hey! Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” _

_ He had no idea. “I can be. What is it?” _

_ “A friend of mine has a friend who’s looking to sell his apartment. He said we could take a look tomorrow; he’ll meet us there and let us in.” _

_ “You’re really still thinking of selling, then?” _

_ “Maybe. I haven’t decided. But it’s in a good location and it’s definitely smaller. Will you meet me there?” _

The man had seemed completely uninterested in sticking around while Belle poked about and had left rather quickly. And here Gold was, trying not to think about the fact that Belle had just invited him into possibly-her-new-bedroom and hoping she would want to leave soon. Opening the door and stepping through, she let out a shout of surprised laughter.

“Oh, my God! You have to see this!”

Reluctantly he limped to stand behind her and peer into the room. He couldn’t quite believe what he saw.

“Is that a zebra-print rug?”

Belle laughed harder as she stepped further into the room. “And a  _ bar _ in the  _ bedroom _ .”

“I take it the owner of this apartment is perpetually single?”

“Must be. Oh, I don’t believe this!” She held up a remote control. “I bet this whole room is automated. Look, what does this button do?” Belle pressed a button at random and nearly collapsed with giggles when the blinds on the windows slid shut.

“My God.”

Belle was still giggling and pressing buttons; one of them turned on the sound system, another turned on a spotlight over the bed. Finally she dropped the remote on an end table. “Lord, I can’t breathe!”

“On behalf of men everywhere, I apologize,” Gold smirked. “The lengths some men will go to get a woman in bed…”

Belle breathed deeply, her giggles subsiding. “Hey, now, don’t judge him too harshly. Not everyone has your advantages.”

“My...what?”

“Well, y’know…” Belle shrugged and walked a few steps towards him. “You’re handsome. Clever. Charming. Not to mention you really know how to wear a suit.” Her eyes flickered over him before landing on his face, which he knew must be turning red. “You probably have to fight women off with your cane.”

“Not, uh...not really, no.” Gold blinked. He wondered when, exactly, he’d hit his head and begun hallucinating.

“Hm. Well, I must say that’s a relief.” She was now standing toe-to-toe with him, her eyes glowing with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“R-relief?”

“Means I might actually stand a chance,” she breathed. Gold stared at her as she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“What, ah…” He stumbled back a step, but her hands remained on his shoulders, her mouth tantalizingly close. “What’s happening?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She slid her hands from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, where her fingernails scratched maddening patterns against his skin. At some point his left hand had found its way to her waist, and though he considered drawing away he couldn’t quite manage it. “I’m trying to seduce you.”

“Why?”

Her eyebrows jumped up. “You really want me to repeat the reasons?” She sighed when he shrugged. “Ever since I met you, you’ve been on my mind  _ constantly _ . You’re interesting and sweet and gorgeous and I just...I’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks.” Biting her lip, Belle dipped her head and then glanced up through her lashes. “I really pissed off my boss this morning because I couldn’t concentrate in our meeting. That’s how excited I was about seeing you today. You were all I could think about. Your eyes and your hair and your lips...you were very distracting.”

“I wasn’t there.” He was astounded that he could still form words.

“Didn’t matter.”

If he was dreaming, this was a very different sort of dream. The faint scratch of her nails on his skin as her fingers explored his hair kept him grounded, and he realized this was actually happening. Belle was in his arms telling him that she wanted him.

Cautiously, just in case he could possibly have misunderstood her, he brushed her lips with his. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she gasped against his mouth, and something in Gold snapped. He let his cane fall to the floor and pulled her against him; she squeaked and her hands dove fully into his hair, returning his kisses with a ferocity that stunned him. One of his hands swept up her back and into her hair and she arched against him, tilting her head to slant her mouth more firmly against his.

When the need to breathe became too pressing he pulled away, a small part of his brain recognizing and glorying in her little whimper at the loss of contact.

“Me, too,” he whispered.

“You too what?”

“Wanted you. From the first moment.” He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and she shivered. “Beautiful, intelligent, passionate. How could I not?”

Belle rewarded his confession with a kiss, slow and sweet and tender, but she pulled a bit away from him, tugging on his hands. It took him a moment to realize that she was leading him to the bed, and he stumbled a bit. Considered asking her if she was  _ sure _ . But hadn’t she made that perfectly clear already? She stopped just next to the bed and reached up to twine her fingers in his hair again, then leaned up to press a kiss to his neck just under his jaw. When her teeth scraped against his pulse point he inhaled sharply and she chuckled low in her throat.

Her hands were under his jacket, shoving it off of him and then gliding over the muscles of his back over his shirt. He ran his own hands up her sides until his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts. Belle moaned and pressed against him, and he allowed his hands to travel further still until he was cupping her, his thumbs brushing over her nipples and earning him another gasp. 

She attacked his waistcoat next, then his tie, and while he was fumbling with the zipper of her dress she popped open three of his shirt buttons and sighed against his throat.

“I love your suits, really,” she said, plucking at the collar of his undershirt. “But there are so many  _ layers _ .”

“Sorry.” He almost laughed in disbelief. She didn’t just want him, she was  _ impatient _ for him. Her fingers were shaking as she finished off the buttons and he wanted to offer to help but his own hands were pretty well occupied. He’d finally managed to slide her zipper down and he was busy exploring the smooth soft skin of her back. His fingers wandered south of her waistline and she moaned. She shoved at his shirt and cursed when it caught at his wrists, his cufflinks impeding her progress.

“Fuck it,” she huffed, pulling away, and for a second he thought she was calling the whole thing off, but then she was shimmying out of her dress and unhooking her bra, finally standing before him, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised. He stood frozen, his eyes wandering over her perfect, creamy skin and the sheer pink lace of her underwear.

“Roderick?”

He started and snapped his eyes back up to hers. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glowing, and he saw with a slightly sinking heart that she looked amused. “I, uh…”

“I’m flattered, but I’m starting to get a little chilly.” Inadvertently he glanced back at her breasts and saw that her nipples were pebbling. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and looked back up at her face. Her expression softening, she took his hands in her own. “Warm me up?”

Gold moved to put his arms around her but his shirt was still dangling from his wrists and he focused on the cufflinks, breathing a few curse words of his own. Bloody useless things, cufflinks. He was tempted to throw them out and never wear them again. Finally free of the shirt, he reached for her, but she grasped the hem of his undershirt and pulled. He tried desperately not to feel too self-conscious about his pale, smooth chest and wiry arms. He hadn’t seen much of Gaston Lefleur, but he’d seen enough to know that he couldn’t possibly compare physically.

Fortunately Belle didn’t allow him too much time to think; the second his undershirt hit the floor she was in his arms again, and he realized that she was pressing her bare skin to his, pulling him close until there wasn’t even a fraction of an inch of space between them. And while that was all delightful, he was suddenly desperate for more, and he pulled back just the tiniest bit so that he could sweep his hands around from her back to her breasts. Her breath stuttered when his palms brushed over her, and she retaliated by dragging her hands down from his hair and down over his shoulders and chest, her fingernails scratching at the planes of his stomach before her hands curled around his belt. He rolled his thumbs over her nipples and she started, her hands jerking at his waistband, and Gold lost his balance.

They landed on the bed - or rather,  _ she _ did and he landed on top of her, throwing out his hands to break his fall just in time so that he didn’t crush her completely. 

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up and away. “I’m so sorry!”

“You’re sorry we ended up on the bed?” Belle grinned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him back down to her. “That was the plan, after all.”

The plan? She’d had a  _ plan _ ? He stared at her in disbelief and under his gaze she began to blush. “Is...is this too much?” she asked timidly. “Because we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I was just so excited to see you and you said you feel the same way and I’ve wanted you for  _ ages _ but if you’d rather wait or if I’ve put you off...”

Well, that was enough of  _ that _ particular brand of nonsense. He couldn’t find the words to reassure her, so he swept her hair away from her neck and pressed his lips to her pulse point, grateful when she clutched at his hair and stopped talking. He propped himself on one elbow and continued his exploration of her throat while his other hand glided over her skin, squeezing in some spots and scratching in others before his fingers brushed over the lacy edge of her underwear and she whimpered something he couldn’t quite make out. He traced his fingers along the waistband and up and over the tops of her thighs until she yanked a little harder on his hair and he looked up to see that she was panting, her eyes wide and fierce.

“I swear to God if you don’t touch me  _ right now _ ...” she whispered.

He chuckled and brushed the tips of his fingers over her core, shocked to find that the material there was already hot and wet. She hissed and flexed her fingers in his hair and he pressed a little harder, drawing his fingers back and forth over the material, his eyes widening as she writhed underneath him. He experimented with a few different rhythms, memorizing which ones drew a reaction from her. Another tug on his hair pulled him out of a kind of trance and he looked up.

Belle took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, then reached once more for his belt. “I wish I could let you do that ‘til I’m a puddle on the floor,” she whispered. “But we’re kind of on a time crunch here.”

Oh, right. This wasn’t his flat or her apartment. They were in  _ someone else’s _ bedroom, and that someone else would probably return at some point.

“We could go,” he said. At the look on her face he hastened to explain. “I mean, to my place or yours or...or the fucking Ritz-Carlton if you like.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, relaxing a little. “I am  _ not _ leaving this room without having you inside me.” The belt slid from around his waist and she started on his flies. “Besides if we tried to go anywhere I’m pretty sure I’d end up jumping you in the taxi anyway.”

Well,  _ that _ was a mental image that wasn’t going to do much for his longevity, especially since Belle had reached inside his boxers and grasped him, and it took every last ounce of his self-control not to come then and there. Desperate to distract himself, he ducked his head and devoted his attention to one of her breasts. He remembered that she’d liked the rolling motion of his thumbs, so he emulated that with his tongue and felt her begin to shake. Her hand squeezed around him and he grunted, shoving aside the gusset of her underwear and sliding one finger inside her.

Suddenly, blessedly, she released him, and her hands gripped his shoulders as he drew in and out of her wet heat, circling the pad of his thumb around her clit, concentrating on that motion and her breast in his mouth. She was whimpering and moaning and when she suddenly broke, her thighs gripping his hand, he raised his head to watch her face.

She could get up, put on her dress, and walk out the door with a casual “thanks” and it would still be the best afternoon of his life. He wouldn’t begrudge her a single moment, and if he never saw her again at least he’d have the image of her coming undone to keep him warm at nights. But Belle was determined to see this through, apparently, because as soon as she had caught her breath she pushed off her underwear, rolled to one side, and grabbed the handbag she’d dropped beside the bed. Fishing around in it, she pulled out a little foil packet and Gold raised his eyebrows.

“You really did have a plan, didn’t you?” he said.

“One of us had to make a move,” she smiled. “It obviously wasn’t going to be you, and I was going absolutely crazy.”

His fingers smelled of her, he could feel the warmth of her skin on his, and her hands were shaking a little as she shoved at his boxers and rolled the condom over him, and still it was a little hard to believe that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

“ _ Please _ ,” she whispered, and he was powerless to resist. Not that he really wanted to anyway.

Belle was perfection itself, fitting around him as if made specifically for him, and the moments between first entering her and shuddering with release were almost embarrassingly few. She moaned and clenched around him, though, and having once seen her face at orgasm it was impossible to mistake it for anything else the second time. Exactly  _ how _ he’d managed to make her come that time he didn’t know, but he'd figure it out next time. If there  _was_ a next time. He hoped there'd be a next time.

They lay beside each other for long minutes, Belle half draped across his chest with her head on his shoulder, until he felt her begin to shake. Concerned, he raised up a little to look at her and saw that she was stifling giggles.

“What?”

“I was just thinking,” she said. “I wonder how this guy would feel if he knew I took the bed for a test drive.”

“Proud, would be my guess. It’s not as if the place isn’t designed for it.”

“I should offer to have his bedding dry-cleaned though. I mean, it’s the least I could do.”

Gold laughed, the sound surprising him. Oh, he’d chuckled and smiled and harrumphed and snorted enough over the last ten years or so, but real, genuine laughter didn’t happen to him often. He relaxed back down onto the bed and pulled her a little closer.

“I’ll chip in. Maybe we can send him a fruit basket, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me like three weeks to write. I was working on it at more or less the same time as the previous chapter.
> 
> Just to clarify, this WILL be my Order in the Rumbelle Court fic, so...expect more in a more lawyer-y setting later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle brings Gold lunch at his office.

Walter Sweeney had worked at the security desk at 710 3rd Avenue, home to the law firm of Gold and Nolan, for five years. Not an energetic man by nature, the slow pace and quiet atmosphere suited him down to the ground, and if he occasionally dozed off at the desk he didn’t think anyone could really blame him for it.

Not much had changed in those five years. At exactly 6:35 a.m., Mr. Gold’s secretary Miss Boyd would scurry in - well, these days it was more like a waddle thanks to her pregnant belly - looking a little anxious and a little harried, but she always had a smile and a kind hello for him. At 6:45, Mr. Gold would stalk past, his face grim and set, answering Walter’s greeting with a curt nod of the head. At 6:50, Mrs. Knight would glide by, all golden and serene and lovely with a honeyed voice - Walter had a bit of a crush on her, he wasn’t ashamed to admit - and at 6:52 Mr. Nolan would stride in. Mr. Nolan always stopped to chat, ask about the family, joke about the coffee. From 7:00 to 8:00 there would be a steady stream of interns, junior partners, and secretaries, faceless and nameless and interchangeable with one another as far as Walter was concerned, and for the rest of the day the lobby would be still except for the odd client or delivery person. It was a nice, quiet, predictable job.

But today something was wrong. It was nearly 6:57 and Mr. Gold hadn’t arrived. Miss Boyd had been calling every five minutes or so asking if he’d seen Mr. Gold  _ yet _ and no, he hadn’t. A few of the junior partners came in and still there was no sign of Mr. Gold; around 7:15 Walter considered calling the police, but he changed his mind when he realized that people usually had to be missing for a lot longer than half an hour before the police would get involved.

The door swung open and Walter breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the unsteady rhythm of Mr. Gold’s footsteps. He ran a hand through his hair and relaxed back into his chair.

“Morning, Mr. Gold,” he said as he always did.

“Good morning, Mr. Sweeney.”

Walter nearly fell off his chair. His head jerked up and he stared at the man in front of him. Mr. Gold was - well, not  _ smiling _ , exactly, but it was the warmest expression Walter had ever seen on him. Gold reached out and plucked a mint out of the bowl.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Walter made a strange squeaking noise in response and watched with huge eyes as Mr. Gold walked to the elevator - even his  _ posture _ was different. Hands shaking, Walter reached for the phone.

* * *

“What did you do to Walter?”

Gold frowned at this uncharacteristic attack from his partner and looked up, ready to defend himself. David’s eyes were twinkling, though, and Gold relaxed.

“Threatened to skin his children for their pelts, what else?”

David smiled. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Am I?” Gold thought about that for a moment. He felt lighter, somehow, as if someone had cut through invisible ropes that had been binding him to a heavy weight. David’s presence was pleasant instead of irritating, and the thought of how Miss Boyd was likely to react to his tardiness was amusing rather than wearying. “I suppose I am.”

“And would a certain recent divorcee have anything to do with this good mood? Ah, forgive me.” David held up a hand. “I know, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

A shy smile twitched at the corners of Gold’s mouth before he wrestled it back down. He was not, after all, a bashful teenager with his first crush, for all David and Belle made him feel like one.

“Mr. Gold? Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Miss Boyd huffed around the corner. “You scared me to death! Is everything okay? Why are you so late?”

“Slept in.”

Miss Boyd’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Slept...you’ve never…”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. I assume you want to look over my calendar for the day?”

“Yes!” Miss Boyd followed him into his office and took him through his schedule.

Images from the previous afternoon kept flashing in his brain, and habit alone kept him focused on his work. The moment he was alone, however, he was powerless to resist the allure of those memories. He’d parted from Belle soon after their interlude with a sweet kiss and the promise of a call the next day. He looked at the clock, wondering whether or not it was too early to call. He glanced at his watch every half hour until noon, and he’d finally decided that he couldn’t wait any longer and was pulling out his mobile when there was a knock on the door. He glanced up and his heart skipped a beat.

“Hey.” Belle stood there, smiling slightly, a white paper bag in her hands.

“Hey,” he echoed, rising to his feet. “I was just about to call you. Did we have an appointment?”

“No, Ashley just waves me through now,” Belle admitted.

That made sense. She’d been here so often during the divorce proceedings that she’d once joked about spending the night.

“I didn’t know what you usually have for lunch, so I just brought a few sandwiches and some chips.” She looked a little agitated, and he tried to smile encouragingly as he moved things around on the coffee table to clear a space. Her nerves were starting to affect him, though, and when they’d been eating nearly ten minutes in silence he took a risk. Setting the sandwich down, he reached out and took her hand, which had been clenched around a napkin as if it were a lifeline.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Some of the tension drained from her and she gave him a small smile. “Yeah, fine. I just...I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with this.”

“Okay with lunch? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No, I mean okay with...this. Us. In your office. Y’know. In public.”

He was truly baffled now. “We’ve been in public together many times, Belle.”

“Yeah, but not as...not as a, uh…” She broke off and looked down at their hands. “A couple.”

Oh. Oh, dear, those words should absolutely not affect him the way they did. It was too much, too soon, and he felt as if he were drowning in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“We...we are a couple, aren’t we?” Her voice had gone a little too high and thin for his liking and he squeezed her hand.

“If that’s what you want.”

“What about you?” When he raised his eyebrows in question she elaborated. “What do you want?”

He hadn’t been asked that in a very long time. “I haven’t been part of a couple in years, Belle, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

“Is that still in question?” she asked, her voice a little lighter and freer.

“I wouldn’t want to presume.”

Her eyes scanned his face and her expression shifted. Setting her sandwich down, she moved forward in her seat until her knees were touching his, then reached for his hands with both of hers. Gently she pulled him forward until she could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his lips. She pulled away after several long seconds and smiled into his eyes.

“Presume all you like,” she whispered.

Gold swallowed thickly and pulled one hand from her grip, pushing it into her hair to cup the back of her head. She was so close that he felt her breath hitch as he pulled her in for a kiss his own. He dared to brush his tongue against her lips and she whimpered, opening for him immediately. He dropped her other hand in favor of cupping her face in his hands, gently tilting her head to grant himself better access to every inch of her beautiful mouth.

When he finally pulled back, her eyes were closed and she was breathing hard, her cheeks a beautiful deep pink. She blinked and stared at him for a moment, then leapt to her feet and strode to the door. Flabbergasted, Gold rose too, confusion battering at his brain - why would she run after everything she’d said?

But she had reached the door and, instead of bolting, closed it and turned the lock. When she turned back around, her eyes were blazing with intent and she stalked back to where he stood by the coffee table, clutched the lapels of his jacket, and yanked him into a searing kiss that left him dizzy.  It was over before he could react, but he couldn’t respond because she had one hand on his chest and the other on his belt and she was gently pushing him back towards his desk. For a moment he wondered if his dream was about to become reality, but she pushed him past the desk and into his chair. She bent over him and kissed him again, teeth and lips and tongue, and then, to his utter disbelief, dropped to her knees in front of him.

“I...Belle, what…”

“This office has featured pretty heavily in my fantasies the last couple of weeks,” she said huskily, running her hands up and down his thighs.

“Mine, too,” he admitted, and hissed when one of her hands brushed against the tented front of his trousers.

She reached for his belt and he watched with wide eyes as she slid it open. He grasped her hands before she could undo his flies and gave a little tug. “You don’t...you don’t have to…”

“Honestly?” She squeezed his fingers. “This was one of my favorites.” He gaped at her and she smiled. “Please?”

Well, what the hell was he supposed to say to that? He nodded, allowing her hands to slide out of his grip and resume their work on his trousers. He grimaced a little when she pulled him out; he was already hard and aching, and the sensation of her hands on his cock was almost more than he could bear.

“Sometimes I wished I could stay,” Belle said quietly as she ran one hand up and down his length. “Hide under this desk and drive you crazy while you met with other clients or your partner.”

Gold groaned helplessly and his head fell back against the chair.  _ Fuck _ , that had been one of his favorites, too. He closed his eyes and gripped the arms of his chair when he felt her breath on his skin, fighting the urge to push up and into her mouth. When her lips wrapped around him his heart stopped in his chest and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Belle moved slowly, maddeningly, her tongue swirling around him and if she didn’t stop soon…

He burrowed one hand into her hair and pulled gently; she released him with a quiet pop and looked at him through her eyelashes. “I cannae...I’m going to…”

“But…”

Gold shook his head and grasped her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. Belle smiled and backed up until she was perched on the edge of his desk. Scooting his chair forward, he ran his hands up her smooth legs and under her skirt.

“Oh, I liked this one, too,” she breathed, parting her legs and resting her feet on the arms of his chair. His fingers slid up the insides of her thighs and brushed against her core and he sucked in a breath.

She was bare beneath her skirt.

His head snapped up and caught her staring at him, and she grinned.

“Do you always have a plan?” he asked, stroking her firmly with one finger.

“One...ah!...one of us has to,” she said. “Might as well...um!...be me. Since you’re Mr. Spontaneity, apparently.”

Mirth bubbled up inside him and, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t contain it. Helplessly he dropped his head onto her leg and laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“I mean, if we’re gonna have sex in random places one of us should be prepared, that’s all I’m saying,” Belle said above him, poking him in the shoulder.

“Oh, aye,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s just that while I’ve been accused of having many unsavory traits, spontaneity was never one of them.”

“I guess I bring out the best in you.”

“Guess so.”

His chuckles subsided and he tugged on her legs, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk. Pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, he smiled when he felt the muscles in her leg tense.

“Undoubtedly so,” he whispered against her skin, and she shivered. “Beautiful Belle,” he murmured, tracing his lips and tongue up her thigh. “Brave and sweet and strong.”

“You’d better have plans for that silver tongue of yours,” Belle gasped, pushing her fingers through his hair.

He did indeed have plans, and he took a moment to marvel over the fact that he was here, seated at his desk with Belle before him, before he slid his tongue between her folds. Belle whimpered, her fingers digging into his scalp, and he struggled to remain focused, alternating firm pressure with delicate strokes, tracing her lips and rolling her clit.

She cursed under her breath when he pushed a finger into her, and one of her hands dropped from his head to grip the edge of the desk. When he was certain she was close, he scraped his teeth over her nub and she tensed, her breathing harsh and uneven. He felt her muscles flutter around his finger and then her taste exploded on his tongue, tangy and musky and he wasn’t sure how he would ever get anything done on this desk ever again without getting hopelessly distracted.

“Shit,” she whispered, easing her fingers from her hair. “Get up here,  _ please _ .”

His knees shook as he stood, and she grabbed his trousers and helped him push them and his boxers down in one go. He stepped into the circle of his legs and crooked an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you have protection?”

“I do…” she said uncertainly.

“But?”

“Well, I was thinking...I haven’t been with anyone since Gaston and my last test was clean. I’m on birth control and...I mean if you…”

She  _ couldn’t _ be saying...

“If you’re clean we can...we can go without.” She worried her lip between her teeth. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Yeah, I am.” When he’d discovered that Cora had taken up with her ex-husband again he’d gotten tested immediately - better to be safe than sorry after all - and he hadn’t been with anyone since.

“Okay. Then what are you waiting for?” Belle smiled. “Come here.”

He’d thought her perfection the day before, but with no barriers between them she was...there were no words. She was clinging to his shoulders and her legs were wrapped around his waist and there was no way he was going to last, not when she’d worked him up so thoroughly beforehand. Her cries were considerably more subdued than they’d been the day before, but when he looked in her face to make sure she was alright, he found her biting her lip ferociously and realized she was trying to keep quiet.

To keep her from drawing blood he kissed her, swallowing her little cries as they both neared their peak. Determined to feel her coming around him, he reached between them and fumbled for her clit. He must have done something right because she jerked and pulled him closer, and then she was shaking and he was following her over the edge, lights exploding behind his eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, relishing the moment when her breaths synchronized with his own. Belle pressed her forehead into his shoulder and returned his embrace, and when he pulled back she reached up to smooth his hair back from his face.

“Pretty good lunch,” she said softly.

He laughed. “Phenomenal.”

Belle got carefully to her feet and snagged a few tissues from the corner of his desk. They tidied up and Gold wrestled with his words as she threw away what was left of their lunch and collected her purse.

“Have dinner with me,” he said at last when they and the office were presentable again.

“Sure. Your place or mine?”

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of Italian or Indian.”

“Oh! You meant actual food!” She grinned. “I like either of those. Surprise me?”

He followed her to the door and waited until she’d unlocked and opened the door before pulling her in for a kiss. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Don’t know if I can wait that long. Seven thirty?”

He grinned. “As you wish.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold attend a charity event and Belle meets several important people.

“Art Start? I’ve never heard of it.” Belle twirled pasta around her fork and Gold shrugged a little self-consciously.

“It’s a smaller program, not big enough to show up on most people’s radars, but Neal and I have been involved for a while. Drawing, creating, designing - they were all important outlets for him and - well, his adolescence could have been a lot more problematic if he hadn’t had a way to express himself.”

“ _ More _ problematic? Didn’t he meet his girlfriend while they were stealing the same car?”

“They gave it back. Eventually.”

“You’re smiling!” Belle laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, you two have the weirdest relationship  _ ever _ .”

“We were very fortunate that the car’s owner had an odd sense of humor.”

“So...he got into graphic design when car theft didn’t work out?”

“No, ah, he got into tagging. And then painting on actual canvases, and  _ then _ graphic design.” Gold sobered a little. “He often says art saved his life. I don’t know if he’s being dramatic or not when he says that, but it’s important to him.”

“So it’s important to you. I get that.” Belle considered her wine glass for a moment. “It’s black tie?”

“No, I managed to talk Regina down to just formal.”

“Regina?”

Gold raised his eyebrows. There was a lilt in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “Yes, she’s helped me organize the event. It’s something of a specialty with her, throwing parties.”

“Is this the same Regina with the awful sister?”

“Yes.”

“The old friend you have lunch with now and then? And the occasional dinner?”

He’d had lunch with Regina exactly once since he and Belle had started whatever this was, and she hadn’t invited him for dinner since before then. Why was she asking? What on earth  _ was _ that strange tone in Belle’s voice, and why was she avoiding his gaze? The expression on her face was familiar somehow, wary and guarded, and he suddenly remembered seeing her look this way on their first coffee date. Come to think of it, she’d acted a little oddly when he mentioned Regina  _ then _ , too. Realization crashed over him.

She was  _ jealous _ .

“Belle?”

She met his eyes with a determinedly cheerful expression. “Hm?”

Reaching out to take her hand, he infused as much warmth and sincerity into his voice as he could. “I am not dating Regina.”

Her eyes flitted over his face and she relaxed a little. “Have you ever?”

“What? God, no!”

Her lips twitched. “Well, that was emphatic.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” He squeezed her hand and felt his face redden. “I, ah...I did see her mother. For a while.”

“Oh!” Eyes widening, Belle sat back in her chair. “So Regina must be a lot younger than I thought she was, but you made her sound like this high-powered businesswoman and…”

“Well, uh.” God, this was terrible. “She, uh...she’s around your age. A few years older.”

And there it was. The  _ thing _ they never talked about. The thing he’d hoped to ignore for as long as this relationship lasted.

For all Belle made him feel sprightly and young and in the prime of his life - particularly in the bedroom - the cold, harsh reality was that she was easily twenty-five years younger than he was. He was old enough to be her father, and while he knew she knew there was a difference, he’d hoped they’d make it a bit farther in the relationship before she realized just how wide the age gap was.

Belle laughed a little. “Okay, so you could maybe stop sounding like it’s totally ridiculous that you could have been interested in her.”

“I’ve known her since she was eight.” He didn’t mean to sound so short, but fuck, Neal was five years older than she was. This was a disaster. Why were they even talking about how ancient he was?

“Hey.” He looked up and saw that her smile had faded, but her features were still soft and open. “You okay?”

He couldn’t answer honestly, so he shrugged and looked back down at their hands, where she was rubbing her thumb over the backs of his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” she asked. “My being younger?”

“No,” he said hesitantly. “What bothers me is my being  _ old _ .”

“Old _ er _ ,” she corrected him, and he shrugged again. When he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, she tugged on his hand. “Roderick.” He squeezed her fingers. “ _ Rum _ .”

He looked up. She’d chosen that nickname, she said, because of the color of his eyes (and also because she hated any shortened version of his real name). No one had ever given him a pet name before, and he loved that she’d had the creativity to come up with one they both liked.

“I came after you, remember?” she said gently. “Pretty shamelessly. And it wasn’t a gradual thing, being attracted to you. I walked into that office and saw you properly for the first time and I just...you were so gorgeous, sitting there scowling at those files. You knocked me for a loop.”

He’d been handsome in an unconventional way, once upon a time, and he’d known it. Used it to his advantage on more than one occasion. Somewhere between the graying hair and the crow’s feet, though, he thought he’d lost whatever appeal he might once have had. To hear Belle - a woman so beautiful she frequently turned heads walking down the street - say that she’d wanted him at first sight was a balm to his very fragile ego.

“Of course then I got to know you,” she continued, “and I found out you were much more than a pretty face, and that just made you more irresistible. But make no mistake, Roderick Gold, I wanted you for your body  _ and  _ your mind.”

He laughed, the conversation suddenly striking him as impossibly funny. She giggled too, and they sat there grinning into each other’s eyes like idiots until their server cleared his throat and asked if they’d like the check.

They would indeed, and later, when she had him sweating and cursing and panting underneath her in her bed, he stopped marveling at the mere fact of being there and paid full attention to her responses: how eager she was to touch him, how vocal she was when he touched her, how surprisingly easy it was to bring her to climax, and how thrilled she looked when he came with her. He wondered how much he’d missed while he’d been counting his blessings.

When he stopped thinking about how grateful he was to be with her, he could see how happy she was to have him there, and that made everything sweeter.

* * *

Belle fidgeted with her handbag and glanced around the gallery. Her critical eye noticed that it was very well-proportioned and well-lit. The artwork, all created by the young people this event was supposed to benefit, was displayed to its best advantage, silent auction sheets by each piece. Belle had already bid a hundred dollars on a landscape done in oils, and she’d noticed Rum’s name on the auction lists of at least five separate works.

The big softie.

She saw him then, walking toward her with a faint smile on his face; she was ready to answer with one of her own when a striking dark-haired woman in red cut him off and grasped his arm. She was whispering urgently, but Rum merely rolled his eyes, took her by the elbow, and steered her to where Belle was standing.

“That crisis can wait,” he said when they were near enough for Belle to hear. “Belle, I’d like you to meet Regina. Regina, Belle.”

With a huff Regina jerked her arm out of his grip and turned to face Belle, her glance sweeping over her. She raised her eyebrows and looked back at Roderick, a smirk playing at her lips, before smiling and holding out her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said.

“Likewise.” Belle shook her hand and tried not to look as if she were intimidated.

“Gold tells me you work at a gallery in Soho?”

“I run it, actually,” Belle corrected her, and Regina smiled.

“I don’t suppose that’s where you met him?” She glanced over at Gold, who’d walked away to collect drinks for Belle and himself.

“Oh...no. I don’t think Rum’s every been to the Avonlea. He, uh...he handled my divorce.”

Regina’s eyes widened and she grinned a very feline grin. “Is that so. That’s positively  _ unethical _ . I can’t wait to ask him about it.”

“It wasn’t at all unethical,” Belle argued. “Nothing happened until the divorce was finalized.”

“But you wanted it to, didn’t you?”

There was no arguing that. Belle smiled and shrugged sheepishly, and Regina laughed.

“Of course nothing happened. Gold’s many things, but he’s not an idiot. I’m sure he learned his lesson the first time.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Belle frowned. “The first time?”

Regina looked startled. “Uh. He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About...my mother?”

“He told me they were involved.” Belle studied Regina’s panicked face. “She was married, while they were together, wasn’t she?”

Huffing, Regina crossed her arms. “You’re a sharp little thing.” Belle raised her eyebrows, and Regina took a long sip of her champagne before answering. “Yes, okay? She was still married. She decided to go back to my father at the last minute. It...it hurt him. I didn’t realize a lot of what was going on at the time because I was just a kid, but I figured it out later.”

Belle saw that Rum had managed to snag two champagne flutes and was making his way back toward them.

“Please tell me I didn’t just ruin this for him,” Regina said a little desperately. “He’s never been involved with a married woman since - I mean, I honestly don’t think he’s been - uh - anyway - it was a mistake on both their parts and…”

“It’s fine,” Belle said reassuringly as he walked up. “Don’t worry about it.”

“She hasn’t told you some horribly embarrassing story about me, has she?” Roderick asked, handing her one of the flutes.

“Not unless you consider that brief period when you refused to shave embarrassing,” Regina said smoothly. “Please never do that again. A beard isn’t a good look for you.”

Belle wasn’t so sure she’d agree, but she allowed Regina to lead the conversation and talk herself away from the accidental minefield she’d created. She watched the two of them talk and needle and tease, and the last of the tight, jealous feeling in her chest dissipated.

Her mental image of Regina had been wildly fluctuating ever since she’d first heard the woman’s name. Rum’s description of her as an old friend had conjured a handsome woman his own age, his equal in experience and sophistication. When he admitted that he’d once been involved with her mother, Regina had become an ambitious young early-twenty-something with nothing but youth on her side.

The reality was both better and worse than everything Belle had imagined. For starters, Belle had imagined passable good looks for the sake of her own peace of mind. With her shiny dark hair, bottomless dark eyes, and a scar over one side of her full lips that gave character and interest to her otherwise flawless features, Regina Mills was a knockout. However, she was also quite clearly not at all interested in Roderick. The energy between them was one of friendly rivalry, familial even, and Belle finally relaxed entirely. She moved to stand a little closer to him, allowed her shoulder to graze his arm, and he glanced down and smiled at her, the expression warming his eyes and softening his features. She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught her lips briefly.

“Oh, brother,” Regina muttered, draining her champagne.

“Don’t mind her,” Roderick said cheerfully. “She’s just not used to people being happy in her immediate vicinity.”

“Fuck off, Gold,” Regina said without heat. “Bad enough you had to prance in here with your perfect girlfriend when you know mine’s in England. Do you really have to rub it in with the PDA?”

“Ah, yes, when is Millie supposed to return?”

“Next week. There’ll probably be a party. You’ve been warned.”

“Millie?” Belle asked.

“Millicent Drake. Attorney at law, a very friendly business rival, and, arguably, Regina’s better half.”

Regina snorted. “Not many who’d argue about that.”

“Yes, well, that’s because they’ve never been subject to a Drake dressing-down.” Gold shivered theatrically. “The woman breathes fire, I’m sure of it.”

“Right, because  _ you’re _ so cuddly and soft. Didn’t you once make an opposing counsel  _ cry _ ?”

“Not my fault he didn’t read the prenup before filing.”

Belle shook her head, squeezed his arm, and headed for the ladies’ room. The two of them were entertaining as all hell, but she’d just been given a lot of new information with pretty much no time to process it. The relative quiet of the bathroom helped; she filed away the information that Regina was apparently involved with a woman (Roderick  _ had _ said she’d never been attracted to him) and the revelation that his relationship with her mother had not been everything it should have been. Not that she had any room to judge, of course. Everyone was allowed to make mistakes, and God knew she’d made quite a few.

And then there was the fact that Regina had just called her Rum’s  _ girlfriend _ and neither of them had attempted to correct her.

She was still ruminating on that as she tried to make her way back to where she’d left her…date? boyfriend? friend with  _ really amazing _ benefits?...and she stopped to admire a water-color painting she hadn’t seen before. The subject was a shadowy figure seated at a spinning wheel, and something about the spinner’s profile was familiar. She leaned a little closer and saw that the nose was prominent and slightly hooked, and she smiled.

“Like it?” The voice startled her and she stepped back. The man beside her was smiling at her, his dark eyes warm and crinkling at the edges.

“It’s beautiful. I was just thinking that the spinner reminded me of someone.”

“It’s Rumpelstiltskin, but he’s sort of modeled after my dad. He used to tell me stories about Rumpel when I was a kid.” The man held out his hand. “I’m the artist. Neal Cassidy.”

“Belle French.”

The man froze with his hand still gripping hers. “Did - did you say Belle?”

“Yeah.”

“Belle French?”

“Ye-es…”

“Hey.” A blonde woman appeared beside Mr. Cassidy, her arm draped around his shoulders. “Sorry, got distracted by the food.”

“Emma, this is Belle. Belle French.”

The woman’s green eyes went wide. “ _ You’re _ Belle?”

“Sorry, do - do we know each other?” Belle tugged on her hand, growing nervous.

“Oh, sorry, no,” Emma stammered. “Pa - uh - Rod - uh - Mr. Gold told us about you.”

Belle’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Did he? And, uh, who are you?”

“Like I said, I’m Neal and this is Emma.” His eyes were unreadable as he looked her over again. “I’m his son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I WROTE A CHAPTER I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT
> 
> Have I thanked you all for reading and kudos-ing and commenting? If I haven't, I thank you now. You are all the best.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the auction, Belle and Gold have a discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead. Yay?

_“Emma, this is Belle. Belle French.”_

_The woman’s green eyes went wide. “ **You’re** Belle?”_

_“Sorry, do - do we know each other?” Belle tugged on her hand, growing nervous._

_“Oh, sorry, no,” Emma stammered. “Pa - uh - Rod - uh - Mr. Gold told us about you.”_

_Belle’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Did he? And, uh, who are you?”_

_“Like I said, I’m Neal and this is Emma.” His eyes were unreadable as he looked her over again. “I’m his son.”_

* * *

 

Neal seemed to realize suddenly that he was still holding Belle’s hand; he dropped it as if it had burned him.

“You’re Rum’s son?” Belle said. On closer inspection, she could see that he had his father’s eyes. “I thought…”

He raised his eyebrows, and yes, _that_ expression was definitely something he’d inherited from his father.

“I just expected you to be...younger.”

Neal’s lips twitched. “I expected _you_ to be -” He cut off abruptly, met Emma’s eyes, and cleared his throat. “Uh. Taller.”

Belle felt an arm slip around her waist and turned to see that Rum had found her again. “Neal, Emma,” he said, “I see you’ve met Belle.”

“Yeah.” Neal’s face was still carefully blank. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Papa?”

Rum looked confused, but he followed his son away from the women, and Belle met Emma’s eyes nervously.

“Neal’s pretty protective. He’s worried,” Emma said frankly as soon as Neal and Rum were out of earshot.

“And...you’re not?”

“Oh, I’m worse. Gold represented my dad in his divorce from his first wife, and then he helped him and my mom when they wanted to adopt me. It wasn’t easy, because I was kind of a problem kid and they’d never even fostered before - and he did that _after_ his son and I were caught stealing a car. That man is the reason I have a family. So, yeah, I’m pretty much the last person who’d let him get hurt.”

“I see.”

“Here’s the thing, Belle. I’m not good at much, but I have one skill. Call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying. So.” She crossed her arms. “Why are you dating Gold?”

Her first reaction was anger, but it flashed and then died out. There was more, much more, to this family dynamic than she’d expected, and when she took a second to think about things from Emma and Neal’s perspective, she could understand their concern. To a point.

“I’m dating him because I like him,” she said calmly, meeting Emma’s eyes. “A lot.”

Her posture relaxing, Emma dropped her arms back down to her sides. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“What, you thought I’d want the details?” Emma grimaced. “No thanks. I just needed to be sure.”

“What - uh - what did he tell you about me?”

“What hasn’t he told us about you? You’re Australian, you love books and modern art, your favorite lunch is a burger and iced tea, your favorite color is blue, you…”

“Oh my God, stop,” Belle laughed. She covered her reddening face with her hands.

“Neal thought about making a Belle drinking game, but I didn’t want to get alcohol poisoning.” Emma smiled when Belle emerged from behind her hands. “He’s pretty crazy about you.”

He was crazy about her. He talked about her to his family. Regina thought she was his girlfriend. Belle’s head was spinning and she kind of wished she hadn’t had that last glass of champagne.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just...not something we’ve talked about yet.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s never brought it up.”

“Oh, he won’t. Don’t get graphic on me, but come on: who made the first move? You or him?”

“I did.”

“I figured. Neal was the same way, and even though he doesn’t look much like him, he’s a lot like his dad. The Gold men, they’re, uh...well, they like to let you set the pace.” She looked over Belle’s shoulder. “They’re coming back. It’s been really nice talking to you, Belle. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time, but…”

“It’s fine, really,” Belle said hastily. “I understand.”

Rum took her hand then and Belle smiled up at him. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, great.” She kissed his cheek. “Let’s check on your bids, see if you won anything.”

* * *

“So that’s Belle,” Neal said when the women were out of earshot.

“Yes.” Gold peered around his son’s shoulder, attempting to keep an eye on his date.

“She’s...uh...not quite what we were expecting.”

“Oh?”

“Papa, come on,” Neal huffed. “You’ve told us pretty much everything about her, and you couldn’t be bothered to warn us that she’s so much...younger?”

“Honestly, son, I often forget. And when I remember, I try not to think about it.” Neal hummed, and Gold narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I just...after Cora, I worry.”

Gold shook his head. “I appreciate it, but you needn’t worry. Belle is the most genuine, tender-hearted person I know.”

“Okay. Whose painting did you bid on?”

Frowning, Gold studied his son. “August’s, Ava Zimmer’s, and a few others I don’t know. Shouldn’t we get back to…”

“August’s a better writer than a painter, but I’m glad he entered something. Ava’s got some real talent, though.”

“Baeden.”

Neal winced. “I, uh…”

“Oh, God.” Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. “Emma’s interrogating Belle, isn’t she? Neal, you…”

“She’s not _interrogating_ her, just...talking to her.”

“Right. I’m going back now.”

Neal glanced around at the women. “Yeah, okay.” He turned to walk back with his father.

“I should be angry with you for that stunt,” Gold grumbled.

“I just…”

“Worry. I know. Don’t.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Gold rolled his eyes. “Well, neither do I.”

They’d come up to the women by then, and he took Belle’s hand. She didn’t look as if she wanted to run away and hide, and Emma even met his eyes and gave him a little wink. He relaxed; if Emma liked her, Neal wouldn’t be far behind.

They wandered about the gallery a little more, sipping champagne and admiring the artwork and, at the end of the night, he collected the piece by Ava Zimmer. He’d been outbid on all the other pieces, which pleased him to no end as he hadn’t exactly bid low to begin with. They bid Regina and his family goodbye and stepped out into the cool night air.

Beside him, Belle was fidgety as they waited for their car; he’d hired a town car and driver for the evening so they could both enjoy the refreshments without worrying about finding a cab. Belle was twisting her hands nervously, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair over and over, and he wondered if Emma had said something to upset her after all.

“Is everything alright?” he asked her.

“Yeah, fine,” she said brightly, and though there was a bit of manic energy in her smile she sounded sincere. He wondered what had caused her nerves.

The car pulled up and he held the door for her as she slid in, admiring the sleek cut of her evening dress and hoping he could convince her to stay at his for one drink at least. He sat beside her and, when the car began to move away, turned to ask her what had her so on edge, but she lunged at him and he found himself with a lapful of Belle, her hands anchoring in his hair and her mouth plundering his.

She’d taken him by surprise, but he responded swiftly, his own hands slipping around her waist and pulling her tightly against him. Whimpering, she moved closer and relinquished his mouth in favor of his neck, the pulsepoint by his jaw, the tender flesh behind his ear. He pushed his hands up into her hair and hung on for dear life as she sought out and lavished every single one of his most sensitive spots with her mouth, and then she pulled away. Her face was flushed and her eyes dark and wild, and she adjusted her position, tugging up on the skirt of her dress so that she could move more freely, straddle him completely. She ran her hands up and down the front of his shirt.

“We’re going to yours, right?” she whispered.

“If you want,” he answered, his voice breaking a little when her thumbs brushed over his nipples.

“Oh, I do. It’s closer, and there’s not really room in here for what I want to do to you.”

“What...uh...what’s that?”

She grinned and shifted so that she was positioned over the tented front of his trousers, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “If this backseat were just a little bigger, I’d get down on the floor in front of you and take you in my mouth, suck you off, drink you down.”

He groaned and dropped his head back on the seat; she leaned forward and nipped at his neck.

“But since I can’t, I guess we’ll just make out like teenagers until we get to your place. Oh, wait,” she grinned. “There’s an elevator ride to look forward to, too, isn’t there?”

God, she was going to kill him. He pushed his hands up under her dress and along her legs, groaning again when he realized that her tights weren’t tights at all, but lace-topped stockings, and her underwear was more flimsy lace cut high and almost soaked through.

She hissed and pulled lightly at his hair when he dragged one finger along the gusset of her underwear. “Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he muttered. “What _have_ you been thinking about?”

“You,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Only you, always you.”

They’d been at this a few weeks and that fact never failed to amaze him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close, the fingers of his other hand working between her legs. Panting and gasping, she scrabbled at his hair, clutched his shoulders, threw her head back and allowed him access to her neck and throat and the tops of her breasts. Her hips moved in time with his fingers, and when she pulled his hair just a little bit harder, he pushed the fabric of her underwear aside and slipped one finger inside her and crooked it, making sure to keep his thumb pressed against her clit.

She squeaked and buried her face in his shoulder, biting down on the material of his jacket, and he felt her convulse around him. He coaxed her through it, murmuring sweet words in her ear while her breath slowed. After a minute she raised her head and kissed him, slow and deep, and he pulled his hand out from under her dress and wiped his fingers on his trousers.

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” he said hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact that he was painfully hard, “but what was that about, exactly?”

Belle sat back a little so that she could look in his eyes. “You talk about me.”

He frowned in confusion. “Of course I do.”

“I mean, Regina and Emma and Neal - they knew about me. About us.”

“Shouldn’t they?” He felt a little nervous. “Were we keeping this quiet? I apologize if I overstepped…”

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I like that you talk about me. I talk about you, too. My friends have been dying to meet you for months.” Her fingers played with the ends of his hair and she bit her lip. “I just...I never really know what to call you when you come up in conversation, y’know?”

“My name doesn’t suffice?”

Belle frowned, and Gold felt as if he’d missed a step. “I guess.” She made to move off his lap, but he tightened his hands on her waist.

“That wasn’t what you wanted to hear. I’m sorry, darling, but I’m not sure what it is you’re asking me.”

“Well, what if you were introducing me to...to someone who doesn’t know that we’re dating? Like...I dunno...some business associate who isn’t a friend. We’d walk up to him, and you’d say, ‘Atticus, I’d like you...’”

“Atticus? I don’t know anyone named Atticus.”

“Atticus Finch. He was the first fictional lawyer I could think of.” She shook her head. “His name isn’t really the point.”

“Right, sorry. Continue.”

“Anyway, you’d say, ‘Atticus, I’d like you to meet my…’” Her voice trailed off.

He waited for a moment, but she seemed to be expecting something from him. “My what?”

Belle huffed. “That’s what I’m asking _you_!”

He swallowed.

 _Oh_.

“Well, I suppose,” he said slowly, “if you have no objection...I rather like the word Regina used tonight.”

“What word is that?” she asked, but he could tell she knew. She just wanted to hear him say it.

He leaned forward and brushed her nose with his. “Girlfriend.”

She broke into a wide smile and kissed him deeply. “I like that too,” she said when she let him up for air.

“Good. So that would make me your…”

She blinked her pretty blue eyes at him. “My what?”

He dug his fingers into her sides and tickled her briefly; she squirmed and giggled and then kissed him softly again, her hand cupping his jaw.

“My boyfriend,” she whispered against his lips. He sighed and pulled her close, but at that moment the car rolled to a stop. “To be continued,” she smiled, slipping off his lap so that he could open the door and hand her out.

The driver was very studiously not looking at them as they left the car, and Gold made sure to tip him generously. No doubt he’d seen and heard much, much more than he’d bargained for, and while Gold couldn’t exactly be sorry, he sympathized. Belle slipped her hand into his as they made their way to the elevator, and Gold tried not to smile too widely.

Then he gave up trying. He had every reason in the world to smile.

* * *

Belle woke first the next morning, blinking in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Memories from the night before swamped her and she grinned, rolling on one side to look at her _boyfriend_ , who was still dead to the world. She couldn’t blame him really; she’d been damn near insatiable last night.

God, he was _so_ handsome. From here she could admire his profile, and the glint of silver at his temples as his hair fell back from his face. One arm was flung up over his head, and she could see the cords of wiry muscle there and the smoothness of his chest before the blanket obscured everything else from view.

She was considering moving that pesky blanket aside and maybe waking him up the best way she knew how when her phone buzzed on the bedside table. Sighing, she swept her own blankets aside and reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God you aren’t dead!” Ruby sounded panicked. “Where have you been?”

Belle frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. I had that charity thing last night, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t say anything about it being a sleepover, and you said we’d have breakfast today. I've been waiting for an hour.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Belle chewed her lip guiltily. “I, uh...I guess I forgot.”

There was a pause, and then she could practically hear Ruby’s sly smile. “Oh? Did that silver fox of yours bang your brains out or something?”

“More or less,” Belle admitted. “And you can call him my boyfriend now.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not doing that until we meet him. Any man in your life has to run the gamut, Belle, you know that. It’s a rite of passage. Archie went through it, and so did Eric and Aurora.”

“I…”

“Friday night, the Rabbit Hole. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Ruby…”

“Talk to ya later, babe!”

Ruby rang off, and Belle sighed, staring at the screen. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her friends to meet Rum, it was just...she liked having him to herself, and the Rabbit Hole wasn’t exactly his scene.

She started when she felt the bed shift behind her, and then bit back a giggle as Rum began to run a finger up and down her spine. “Everything alright?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Yeah,” she sighed, lying back down and turning to snuggle into his arms. “That was my friend Ruby.”

“The waitress studying to be a veterinarian, yes?”

“That’s the one.” Belle smiled against his shoulder, thrilled that he remembered details about her friends. “She wants to meet you. Or rather, she wants you to meet everyone.”

“When?”

“Friday.”

“I’ll check my schedule, but I ought to be free.”

Belle pulled away a little and looked up at him. “Really? Just like that?”

His brow creased. “Do you not want to go?”

Her heart beat a little faster. “No, I do, I guess. It’s usually a little harder to get guys to agree to meet my friends, that’s all.”

“Are they ogres? Green-toothed and scaly-skinned?”

“No, you dork.” She poked him in the side. “They’re just...my friends. Guys get weird about stuff like that.”

“Well, that’s absurd. They’re your friends and they’re important to you. I’m more than willing to meet them.”

Belle hummed and kissed the tip of his nose. “And _that_ is why you’re my boyfriend.”

“Is it?” he asked. He rolled her underneath him. “Shall I remind you of my other qualifications?”

Belle giggled and arched into his touch. Yes, he had _many_ qualifications to be her boyfriend, and she hoped they’d get to explore all of them before noon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold meets Belle's friends and has a bit of a revelation.

The Rabbit Hole was, by anyone’s standards, a dive. Management had a fondness for hair bands and glam rock, the pool tables were uneven and missing cloth in places, and the drink choices weren’t exactly top shelf. It was Belle’s favorite spot for drinks and girl talk, and she was positively vibrating with excitement over the fact that at last her two worlds were about to collide.

Of course, there were some nerves mixed up with that excitement, too. She wasn’t worried, exactly, but she wanted Rum and her friends to get along. Their reception of her previous boyfriends had been lukewarm at best, and she’d been disappointed, but this time - well, she wasn’t sure what she would do if they didn’t like Rum.

“Belle!” Ruby waved her over to their table, and Belle slid onto a stool next to Ariel and across from Mulan and Ruby. “God, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Belle grimaced.

“You don’t need to be sorry. You’ve got a new guy, everyone’s allowed a bunny rabbit stage.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“It’s the most crucial stage, when you figure out if you’re compatible,” Ariel said.

Ruby leaned forward, crossing her arms and resting them on the table. “So…”

“So?” Belle asked innocently, waving the server over.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

Mulan rolled her eyes and Ruby growled. “Compatible, you doofus!”

Smiling, Belle mirrored Ruby’s posture. She waited for a few seconds, allowing the suspense to get to them. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Yes.” The server approached them, and she leaned back and ordered a Long Island iced tea. When she looked at her friends, they were all staring at her. “What?”

“What?  _ What? _ ” Ruby looked ready to explode. “You talk about this guy for weeks. You disappear for days at a time doing God knows what with him. You...you... I mean, you might as well have big pink hearts floating out of your eyes. And that’s  _ all you have to say!? _ ”

“We’re compatible,” Belle said. “ _ Very _ compatible. Sometimes we’re compatible two or three times in a night.”

“But he’s older, right? He doesn’t have any...issues?” Ariel said delicately.

“Not so far, but even if he did, that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem.”

Mulan grinned. “Good for him. Everyone appreciates a lover with multiple skill-sets.”

“So, it’s good,” Ruby said. “Really good.”

Belle sighed and took a sip of her drink. “I’m not giving you the details, Rubes, but...it’s the best sex of my life.”

The ladies went silent, and Belle was able to take a few more sips in peace.

“Wait. Really?” Ariel said incredulously. “Better than Will?”

“Better than  _ anyone _ .” Belle sighed. “I really,  _ really _ like him.”

“No, you don’t,” Mulan said seriously. She studied Belle, her gaze somber. “You don’t like him. You’re in love with him.”

Belle nearly choked on her drink. Sputtering, she stared at Mulan through watering eyes. “What?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“I think she’s right,” Ariel said, her eyes going wide. Ruby’s face was carefully blank, and Belle tried to laugh them off.

“Guys, we’ve been dating about a month. We  _ just _ decided to put a label on it.”

“Silver fox at two o’clock,” Ruby said suddenly. “Is that your guy, Belle?”

Belle turned and saw that Rum had, indeed, entered and was standing uncomfortably just inside the door. Her pulse picked up when she saw that he was dressed as impeccably as ever despite the fact that she’d warned him about the less-than-refined atmosphere of the Rabbit Hole. His suit was a black pinstripe, his shirt royal blue and his tie darker with a red pattern. The gold handle of his cane glittered in the low light of the bar, and the silver in his hair gleamed.

_ God _ , he was gorgeous.

“Yeah,” she said with a slow smile. “That’s him.”

She lifted one hand to get his attention and he smiled, raising his hand in response before walking toward them.

“Huh,” Ariel said.

“What?”

“I just...never found a limp attractive before.”

Ruby and Mulan laughed, but Belle knew exactly what Ariel meant. There was a sinuous grace in his unsteady walk that had captured her attention very early on, and it had taken her by surprise too.

When he came up to their table, Belle spun her stool around to face him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss, and Belle smiled against his lips. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay, gave us a chance to catch up. Ladies, this Rum - Roderick Gold. Rum, this Ruby Lupin, Ariel Delmar, and Mulan Fa.”

“A pleasure,” Ruby said as the other women nodded. “So tell us, Rum.” She leaned forward again, a wolfish grin on her face. “Just how many times did Belle have to offer to sleep in your office before you got the hint?”

Belle had warned him that her friends were forward, but she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d got up and walked out. She buried her face in her hands and groaned, but Gold smiled. “Well, dearie, I can’t say I ever did actually get the hint.”

“You must have or you wouldn’t be here now.”

“I owe that entirely to Belle’s...tenacity.”

All three ladies laughed and Belle emerged from her hiding place. “That’s very diplomatic of you, darling,” she said dryly. “You can just say that I pounced on you like a tiger on a gazelle.”

“A very beautiful, graceful tiger,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I’d tell you to get a room, but that’s probably happening later anyway,” Ariel smirked.

“Where are Archie and Eric and Aurora?” Belle asked desperately. “I thought this was a group outing.”

“Are you kidding? This is an interrogation.” Mulan waved the server over again. “The SOs would close ranks and protect him. Right now we have him at our mercy.”

“I’m still here.”

“Like we can’t end-run you,” Mulan scoffed.

“There’s no reason to protect me, sweetheart,” Gold reassured her. “I’ve faced cross-examination before.”

“But…”

“Belle, do you remember what you said to Archie the first time I brought him around?” Ruby asked sternly.

“Uh…”

“You asked him if we’d ever used the couch in his office for extracurricular activities.”

“I…”

“You asked Eric if the skills needed to play the flute were useful in other settings,” Ariel pointed out.

“Well…”

Mulan shook a finger under Belle’s nose. “You asked Aurora if she liked morning sex since her name meant ‘dawn.’”

“Wait, I was  _ really _ drunk that night,” Belle protested. “That was a terrible question and I thought it’d been expunged from the record.”

“Our point is that you’ve dished it out, so now you can take it,” Ruby said triumphantly. When Belle descended into sulky silence, Ruby grinned and turned her full attention on Gold. “ _ So _ . Rum. All the lawyers I know are really smooth talkers. How does that translate to the bedroom?”

* * *

 

“God, I’m so sorry,” Belle moaned as they stood on the curb trying to hail a cab. “The things they asked you…”

Gold wound an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s fine, sweetheart. They’re protective and only want the best for you. I just hope I measured up to their standards.”

He’d been more than a little terrified, walking into that bar tonight. Despite his limited experience with women, he knew that they cared deeply for the opinions of their friends, and he’d been anxious to make a good impression. Thankfully, he felt he’d accomplished that.

He liked them all. Ruby, who was brazen and outspoken but loved animals to distraction and was seriously involved with a mild-mannered psychologist. Ariel, the daydreaming sculptor with a passion for music who was seeing a flautist in the symphony orchestra. Mulan, a lieutenant in the army, older than the others and married to a woman named Aurora, and currently on leave and determined to make the most of her vacation.

They were fascinating women, all of them, and he found himself imagining similar get-togethers in the future that combined his family and friends with hers. He sensed that Mulan and Emma shared a penchant for hiding their vulnerability behind tough exteriors. Regina would delight in crossing verbal swords with Ruby, and he was sure Neal would appreciate Ariel’s musical taste and artistic ability. When the cab arrived, Belle had to poke him to jolt him out of his imaginings.

“What were you thinking just then?” she asked.

“That I liked your friends, and I hoped they liked me.”

“Oh, they did,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Look.” She showed him a group chat, which featured three thumbs-up images in a row, one from each of the women. “Congratulations. Or condolences. I’m not sure which is more appropriate.”

“Anyone would consider themselves lucky to have those ladies as friends,” he said, and she sighed.

“Yeah, well, they haven’t pulled out the big guns yet.”

“There are...bigger guns?” Gold’s mind started to race. What more could they possibly require of him? Drinking contests? Arm-wrestling?

“They didn’t ask the tough questions.”

Considering that they’d asked him about his favorite positions, his favorite fantasies, and his favorite flavor of body paint - a question he’d had no idea how to answer, never having heard of such a thing - he dreaded discovering what those questions were. For now, he saw that she looked worried, so he pulled her closer to him.

“They can ask me anything they want and I’ll answer honestly, unless you ask me not to divulge something.”

Her eyes searched his face, warming when she recognized his sincerity, and she snuggled into his shoulder. “You’re so sweet.”

_ Sweet _ . A word that he’d never have used to describe himself before he met Belle French, but here he was comforting his girlfriend in a cab after her friends had run him through the wringer. “Must be contagious,” he said.

When they reached her apartment, Belle made tea and brought it into the living room. He was used to this now, the quiet domesticity of just sitting in a room with someone, sipping tea and sometimes making the odd remark. Belle’s expression, though, told him she had something on her mind.

“I feel bad,” she said. “You answered all of their questions so calmly and now I feel like I know a lot more about you than you know about me.”

“Well, it’s not as if we’re keeping score.”

“Yeah, but…” she waved a hand. “I want to level the playing field. Go on, ask me anything.”

Gold stared at her helplessly. What had been casual and fun in the dingy bar felt intimate and tense in her immaculate living room. Here there were no others to absorb uncomfortable silences or distract them from unexpected embarrassment. Belle watched him over the edge of her mug, and when two minutes had ticked by without his saying anything, she took a deep breath.

“Okay, since you won’t ask...there’s something that’s been bothering me...something I want you to understand.”

He swallowed. “Oh?”

“Beryl - at one of our meetings she called me a - a whore. And it made me so angry and you were so gentle…”

“She had no right to…”

“It’s not like I don’t have a past,” Belle interrupted. “I do, but - I always wanted to meet the right guy, get married, settle down, all of that - and you can’t do that without dating.”

“Belle…”

“And I  _ like _ sex, and I never saw any reason why I shouldn’t be with a guy I liked, so…”

“Sweetheart, stop.”

“I just don’t want you to think…”

“I don’t. I never would.”

Belle finally took another breath and smiled uncertainly. “You say that now, but…”

“I had an affair with a married woman while she was still my client,” Gold said flatly. “I’m hardly qualified to pass judgement. But even if my history were as pure as a monk’s, I would never think badly of you for yours.”

She still looked unconvinced, so he shifted closer, set her mug on the coffee table, took her hands in his, and pulled until she was encircled in his arms.

“I don’t care if you had one lover before me, or a dozen, or fifty,” he murmured, kissing her gently. “Your past is part of what makes you the person you are, and I happen to like that person very much.”

With a tiny sigh, Belle melted into his embrace, returning his kiss with a feverish intensity. After a moment she pulled back, her eyes slightly misty. “God, you’re so…”

She broke off abruptly and pulled back a little, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open. For a moment she looked frightened, and then the expression melted away and she reached up to brush his hair away from his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she leaned in and kissed him again. “I’ll tell you some other time. Come on, you earned serious brownie points tonight, and I think you should start redeeming them right this minute.”

She rose from the couch, one of his hands still clutched in hers, and he grinned, following her. If she were this easy to please, he might actually stand a chance in hell of keeping her around a while longer.

Later that night, as he watched her sleep, he imagined what it would be like to see her thus every night, to wake to her smiles and kisses every morning, to curl up and watch TV after dinner every evening, to receive joint invitations to events, to have his friends see him and ask “And how’s Belle?” He imagined squabbling over takeout menus and dissecting plays they’d seen, making her chicken soup when she was sick and massaging her feet when shows at the gallery ran late and she was run off her feet. He imagined that one some nights they’d both work too late to do anything but fall into bed and sleep like rocks, content in each other’s presence even without an amorous interlude.

Realization hit him and he sucked in a quiet breath, the blow almost physical. Somehow, despite carefully guarding his heart for twenty years, despite being certain he had everything and everyone he needed, despite all common sense, he’d fallen in love with her.

They’d been together a  _ month _ , and already he couldn’t imagine life without her.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the dread to hit, but instead he felt utterly calm and at peace, as if his heart had known all along and had been waiting for his brain to catch up. Whether she felt, or could ever feel, the same way was a question for another day. For now, he had someone to share his nights and brighten his days, and he would enjoy it as long as it lasted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Emma have news for Gold, Gold and Belle attend a gallery opening, and it appears there may be another woman in Gold's life.

Gold paced nervously outside the bistro, his fingers twitching at his side. Neal had called that morning and asked him to meet them for dinner. To talk about something _important_ , he’d said. Despite a certain blue-eyed beauty’s influence, Gold was an incurable pessimist, and he couldn’t think of a single instance in the history of humanity when the words “we need to talk” had meant anything good. He couldn’t even determine what exactly might be wrong; he just knew that something _must_ be. Neal and Emma were late, to top it all off, and he was imagining accidents and muggers and God knew what else.

He’d whipped his phone out to call Neal again when a hand gripped his shoulder.

“Hey, Pops. Sorry we’re late.”

Gold turned and saw with relief that both Neal and Emma looked whole and unharmed.

“You could have gone in,” Neal said. “No need to wait out here for us.” He glanced around. “You didn’t bring Belle?”

“You didn’t mention her. Should I have?” He reached for his phone again. “I can call her if…”

“No, that’s okay. Come on, let’s go in.”

Once they’d been seated and served, Gold assessed his son and Emma. They didn’t look worried or upset, but there was a nervous energy thrumming between them. Neal was drumming his fingers on the table, and Emma was picking at her fingernails in a way that made Gold wince.

“Okay, Papa. First of all, uh...Happy Father’s Day. Dinner is on us, obviously.”

Gold blinked. Right, of course. The third Sunday of June. Somehow he’d forgotten.

“So we have a couple of things to tell you, but they’re both good things and we’re both excited about them.”

Gold felt his nerves dissipate ever so slightly.

“So, the first thing.” Neal glanced at Emma, who smiled back and propped her chin on her hand. “Friday was our anniversary and...well, long story short, I asked Emma to marry me.”

Gold raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know,” Neal said, “should have done that years ago.”

“I hope you made him wait for his answer,” Gold told Emma.

“Kinda. I told him to read this and let me know if that was still what he wanted.” Emma slid an envelope across the table, and Gold picked it up with a curious frown.

The envelope held a plain blue card with white lettering, and Gold pulled it out. “What is a dad?” the card asked.

Oh, God.

With trembling fingers he opened the card. Blue type on a white background. “You. You is a dad.”

Gold raised wide eyes to his son, who was beaming.

“We have a card for you, too,” Emma said softly, handing him another envelope.

His hands were shaking so badly that he almost couldn’t open the envelope, but he managed it, and thankfully this card was a simple rectangle of white with black script. “Only the best Dads get promoted to Grandpa.”

Pressing his lips together, Gold struggled not to break down; it didn’t help that Neal’s eyes looked pretty misty. Emma looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes. “Wow. And you grumbled about my mom being sappy.”

“You’re...when?” Gold asked. He was really quite proud of how steady his voice sounded.

“February.”

“So, um...a wedding?”

Emma shrugged and smiled. “Whenever it happens, I guess. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind just heading to the courthouse…” She laughed at Gold’s indignant expression. “Yeah, that’s the exact same look my mom gave me. But the thing is, I don’t want to have wedding pictures of me when I’m super pregnant, y’know? And I also don’t wanna wait til after the baby is born.”

“We don’t really want a big wedding, Papa,” Neal said.

Frowning, Gold fiddled with his fork and thought. He couldn’t exactly demand that they have a wedding just to satisfy him and, apparently, her mother. “Alright,” he said. “What is the plan, then?”

“Next weekend at my parents’ house in the Hamptons. Mom will cook and we’ll get someone to officiate,” Emma said. “It’s more personal than the courthouse, and it’s still nice and casual. Just family and a few friends. You in?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Awesome.” Emma grinned and stood. “Be right back.”

“Congratulations, Bae,” Gold said quietly as she walked away. “I don’t think I’ve said that yet. She’s a remarkable young woman.”

“Yeah, I know,” his son said with a dopey grin. “I’m just lucky she didn’t walk out years ago.”

“Why did you wait so long, if I may ask?”

Neal shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I guess I was afraid to rock the boat, y’know? Afraid to say anything new or different, like that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Nodding, Gold took a sip of his coffee.

“And, uh...speaking of remarkable women...how’s Belle?”

“Fine.” Gold fought hard to keep from fidgeting in his seat.

Neal watched him, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Just fine?”

“Great. Wonderful.” Gold’s fingers twitched as Neal continued to stare at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just...can I give you some advice?”

“I suppose.”

“Whatever you’re worrying about, stop. Take a chance. Rock the boat.”

* * *

“You’re quiet.”

Gold watched the woman next to him out of the corner of his eye; she was tracing random patterns on his chest and smiling softly. “Because I’m usually so talkative?”

“Smartass.” Belle rose up on one elbow and her hand on his chest stilled. “Is everything okay?”

“Neal and Emma are getting married. Fancy going to a wedding?”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Belle beamed. “When is it?”

“Next weekend.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she snorted. “Huh. Who knew spontaneity ran in the family?”

“It’s at the Nolans’ house in the Hamptons. We could take the weekend, get away from the city for a bit.”

Belle bit her lip. “Are you asking me to go on a vacation with you?”

He flushed and looked away. “If it’s too short notice…”

“No, it’s fine. I just have to rearrange some stuff at the gallery. I’d love to go to the Hamptons with you.”

Smiling slightly, he turned his head and met her eyes again. “Yeah?”

She frowned a little and eyed him curiously. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know, you might have had...plans.”

“Plans more important than celebrating your son’s marriage with you?” She shook her head, her gaze serious. “Rum, even if I did have plans I would’ve changed them. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded, but he knew his expression was far from convincing. Belle sighed and bent down to kiss him. “I would stay here and point out all the reasons you’re silly for thinking I’d miss going to your son’s wedding with you, but I have to get ready for work. Consider this discussion tabled.” She rose from the bed and began gathering her clothes, and Gold sat up to watch her. As she tugged on her jeans she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t forget the opening is at eight tonight.”

He nodded and she grinned, dashing back to the side of the bed to press another kiss to his lips.

“I can’t wait to show you off a bit. Jeff’s been dying to meet you.”

“Jeff? Wasn’t the artist from your last opening named Jeff?”

“Yeah, we hit it off and he’s a friend now. A weird, dramatic, slightly _manic_ friend, but a friend all the same. The girls and their significant others will be there, so you’ll have plenty of people to talk to.”

“That isn’t something I usually worry about at parties,” he said dryly.

“Well, Archie probably won’t mind standing in a corner silently with you. He’s a little shy.”

He smiled.

“And _maybe_ if you’re _very_ good, you’ll get to take something home at the end of the night.”

After a final kiss, Belle whirled out of the room and Gold was left to prepare for his own workday in a far more sedate fashion. Neal’s recommendation from the day before that he “rock the boat” had stayed with him, but he was still not comfortable sharing the revelation he’d had the night he’d met her friends. The timing just hadn’t been right. It had nothing to do with being afraid. At least, he didn’t think it did.

David Nolan poked his head into Gold’s office an hour or so into the day and grinned at him. “Marriage, huh? What’ll those crazy kids think of next?”

Gold smirked. “Parenthood, it would seem.”

“I guess we all knew it would happen eventually,” David shrugged. He came farther into the office and braced his hands on the back of one of the armchairs. “Neal’s a lucky guy, even if I do say so myself.”

“I agree, and more importantly, so does Neal.”

“You’re really okay with this, though?” David asked. “I mean...us...we’ll be a family now. You’ll have to come over for Thanksgiving, maybe even host a birthday party or two.”

“Well, it’s not as if I find you or Mrs. Nolan repulsive,” Gold pointed out. “We have socialized from time to time, and your conversation has never made me want to puncture my own eardrums.”

“Don’t gush, it’s embarrassing.”

“So is that necktie, and yet…”

David laughed and straightened, extending his hand. Gold rolled his eyes, but rose and shook it. “Here’s to fights over who gets to keep the grandkids for the weekend and polite small talk at family dinners.” He winked. “Dibs on getting the kid a drum set, though. I’ve been dreaming of revenge ever since Emma’s brief love affair with the clarinet.”

“I’ll contribute finger paints,” Gold said with a conspiratorial grin. “Payback for the crayon drawings all over my walls.”

“Awesome.” David looked over his shoulder. “I gotta go, new client coming in. Tell Belle I said hi.”

“Same to Mrs. Nolan.”

At the end of the day, Gold hastily changed into the fresh suit he’d brought with him and drove to the Avonlea Gallery in Soho. The crowd looked sizeable, and the fact that he could bypass it with a mention of his name was a relief. Once inside, he spotted Belle talking to a small, dark-haired man with thick eyebrows and a scowl on his face; he recognized the calm, patient mask she wore when she was feeling especially irritated, so he walked over to discover if he could help.

“I thought I’d made it clear that _The Peddler_ was to be hung to the right of _The Author_ ,” the man was saying. His voice grated, a petulant whine that had Gold’s teeth on edge, and he admired the calm sweetness of Belle’s response.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Heller, but my notes definitely said it was the other way around. We talked about it last week, remember? You said _The Author_ was the more compelling piece and should be on the right.”

“Well, that’s just silly. The pieces are one of a series and _The Author_ comes first, so it should be on the left. Honestly, how could you think it would be otherwise?”

“You told me otherwise, Mr. Heller.”

“But you run this gallery, don’t you? Couldn’t you _tell_ , when you had everything up, that something was wrong?”

“Mr. Heller, if you want me to have one of my employees switch the paintings I’m more than happy to…”

“No, no, half the room has seen them by now and it’ll just confuse people if they’re suddenly switched. But really, I would have expected that as a woman with knowledge of art…”

Gold wished he could intervene and tell the other man exactly what he could do with his criticisms, but charm was not his strong suit and he rather doubted that Belle would appreciate his insulting the artist. He breathed a sigh of relief when another voice suddenly rang out.

“Mr. Heller! You _are_ Mr. Heller, aren’t you? Tonight’s featured artist?” The young man who had materialized next to the artist was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, and Gold blinked to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Wonderful!” the man exclaimed, pumping the bemused artist’s hand. “Jefferson Bucket, and I have to tell you that _Heroes and Villains_ is simply a _marvel_ of modern surrealism. It took my breath away. Would you mind terribly talking about it with me?”

Heller beamed and followed him away, and Belle appeared to breathe more easily. She looked up and spotted Gold hovering nearby, and a smile broke out on her face. She rushed over and took his arm, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and then steered him gently to where her friends were standing in a little group off to the side.

“Well I _like_ modern art,” Archie was saying.

“So do I,” Ariel said with a smirk, “but this stuff? It’s so... _parochial_. Heller’s a one-note wonder, and everyone knows it.”

“There is a place for simple concepts in art, though, wouldn’t you say?” Archie asked. “You have to admit that Heller’s work is definitely approachable. Not everyone can be Ernst.”

“If you can’t _be_ Ernst, you shouldn’t try to _imitate_ Ernst,” Ariel said with a huff.

“Rum! Thank God!” Ruby spotted him and Belle and waved them over. “Will you please tell these two to either shut up or settle this the old-fashioned way? If I have to hear them argue about this anymore I’m gonna scream.”

“What is the old-fashioned way?” Gold asked.

“Arm-wrestling, duh.”

“No arm-wrestling at the gallery, Ruby,” Belle said sternly. “You know the rules.”

“Then I’m getting more wine.” She smiled at her boyfriend. “You need anything, hon?”

“I’m fine.” Archie turned to smile at Gold. “Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“Mr. Hopper.” Of all of Belle’s friends, Hopper made him the most nervous. He was a few years younger than Gold, mild-mannered and very soft-spoken, but he was a _psychologist_ , and Gold always had the uneasy feeling that he knew and noticed a great deal more than he let on.

“Congratulations on your son’s engagement,” he said. “Belle says it’ll happen soon?”

“Thank you. Yes, they’re unwilling to wait much longer.”

“Your son is an artist, isn’t he?”

“Graphic designer, though he did paint for awhile.”

“Belle says he’s very good.”

“Well, I’ve always thought so, but I’m a bit biased.” Warmth was flooding his chest, and he was beginning to understand Belle’s reaction when she discovered that he’d been talking about her. Hopper talked with him a little while longer about Neal’s work, and he was beginning to feel comfortable when there was another interruption.

“Gods preserve me from self-important, high-ego, low-talent _artistes_!” The young man in the top hat had appeared amongst them, and Belle smiled and patted his arm comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Jefferson,” she said. “But on the plus side, you get to meet Rum now.”

“Well, finally!” Jefferson’s eyes swept over him and he grinned. “What a face!” Without warning the taller man grasped Gold’s chin and turned it from side to side. Gold was so startled he scarcely had time to react before the artist had released him and stepped back. “All planes and sharp angles, huh? And that hair! Ever thought of modeling?”

“Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Jeff,” Belle said, the slightest hint of a warning in her teasing voice.

“Can’t help it, big brown eyes do that to me.”

Gold felt a flush creeping up his neck.

“Excuse him,” Belle said fondly. “He doesn’t have much of a filter.”

“True enough.” Jefferson snagged a champagne glass from a passing waiter. “Don’t you have a son?”

“He’s engaged,” Belle said.

“Brother? Nephew? Cousin?”

“Okay, time for you to go charm someone else.” Belle gave him a little shove. “Go on, I’ll talk to you later. I’m sorry, Rum,” she said as Jeff gave him a wink and sauntered away. “He’s only about half serious, and a little tipsy. He’ll be better the next time you meet him.”

“It’s alright,” Gold said hoarsely, still trying to regain his equilibrium. “It’s not the sort of teasing I’m used to, but…”

“Teasing?” Belle cut him off and was looking at him strangely. “He wasn’t teasing. I mean, maybe about wanting to meet your relatives, but not about you.”

Gold laughed uneasily. “He’s half my age and half a foot taller than me. I don’t think…”

She made a very strange sound in the back of her throat and then grasped his arm, pulling him away from the crush of people and into a back hallway. Bewildered, he followed her, wondering what he’d said to make her look so serious and determined. When the chatter of the crowd had faded and they were alone in the dim silence, he dared to ask.

“What…?” He was cut off as she pressed him back against the wall and kissed him breathless. When she released him, he gasped, “Belle, what…”

“You’re _gorgeous_ , Rum,” she whispered. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Why can’t you believe that?”

“I…” It was hard to think when she was pressing hot kisses along his jaw to his pulse point, and he gripped her arms, gently pushing her back. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry.” She smiled, her eyes soft. “Just believe people when they compliment you. Can you do that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he teased. “If this is the response I get when I _don’t_...”

Belle snorted and leaned in to press a kiss to the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Oh, hush.” She kissed him again, slow and soft, and he let his cane drop to the floor in favor of wrapping his arms around her. He had no idea how long they stood in that hallway, wrapped up in each other’s arms and mouths, but he snapped back to reality abruptly when he heard the sharp sound of a throat clearing.

“Well. I thought reports were exaggerated, but it would appear I was wrong. What in the world are you thinking, Roderick?”

Gold dragged his mouth away from Belle’s to gape disbelievingly at the woman who stood near the door to the gallery, her face the picture of sneering disapproval.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Belle asked.

“Fiona Gold, dear,” the woman said haughtily. Belle stumbled back and out of Gold’s arms, panic flitting across her face. “Hasn’t he mentioned me?”

Gold rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, “Mother, what the hell are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck on this chapter for a really long time. The thing is, I based this story on Harry and Charlotte's story from Sex and the City, but it started to diverge a bit from their story fairly early on, and the sources of conflict in the H/C relationship (promise to dead mom, conversion to Judaism, Charlotte admitting she's embarrassed to be seen with Harry) didn't really exist in this universe.
> 
> But then I thought...hey, OUAT Gold totally has a problematic mom, and this situation is rife with possible drama. Hope you enjoy the new addition.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold and Belle run into someone at her art gallery.

_Two Weeks Ago_

He hated leaving Belle’s apartment so early in the evening, but they both had early starts the next day and one thing they’d proven to each other over the last few weeks was that they could only spend the night together if they had no plans in the morning. Neither of them had quite mastered the art of keeping their hands to themselves.

Gold took a deep breath as he stepped out onto the sidewalk and glanced back up at the high-rise. Belle had been reluctant to let him go, coaxing one “last kiss” after another out of him until she’d finally been distracted by a call from her friend Ariel. She’d glared at him as he ducked out the door, and he knew she would be dreaming up all kinds of devious punishments for him.

Lost as he was in his thoughts, he didn’t see the other person on the sidewalk until she was nearly on top of him, and he jumped back a mile when he realized who it was.

“Darling! How did you know I was back in town?”

“Zelena.” Gold sighed as she wrapped herself around his arm. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t,” she said slyly. “So you definitely _weren’t_ coming to Gina’s apartment to see me, hm?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I wasn’t.”

Zelena laughed and leaned closer, running one hand up his chest. “You’re right, Gina’s place is far too crowded. We should go…”

“Rum! You forgot your…”

Belle had dashed out of the front door of her building and now stood frozen on the sidewalk, her eyes widening as she took in Zelena Mills clinging to his arm. In her hand she was clutching his mobile, and for a terrifying moment Gold thought she’d arrived at exactly the wrong conclusion.

He should have known better. Only the most idiotic of cheaters would leave one girlfriend’s place in order to meet up with the other just outside the door, and he wasn’t exactly making an effort to hide how uncomfortable he was, what with snarling at the other woman and gripping his cane so hard he feared he’d break it.

“Hello,” Belle said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Zelena Mills, dear.”

“Oh!” Belle’s grin suddenly widened and her eyes gleamed. “ _You’re_ Zelena.” She held out one hand. “I’m Belle. Rum’s told me a lot about you.”

Reluctantly Zelena let go of him and shook Belle’s hand briefly. “I wish I could say the same, dear. He’s never even mentioned your name to me.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t surprise me.” Belle stepped forward and took the hand Zelena had been too slow to reclaim and laced their fingers together. “He’s such a _private_ person, likes to keep _intimate details_ to himself.” She smiled beatifically at him and brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “I’m very lucky, I know. He doesn’t bare his… _soul_ to just anyone.”

“You alone, sweetheart,” Gold acknowledged, returning the gesture and pulling her closer.

Zelena looked like she might be sick. “And you two are…involved?”

“At least once a day,” Belle said cheerfully. “Three times on Sundays. I haven’t had my birthday yet but something tells me I should get lots of rest the day before.”

“I…My sister will be worried about me,” Zelena said hastily, her face a sickly shade of green. “I really should go.”

“Well, it was lovely meeting you,” Belle enthused. “Maybe we’ll see you again sometime.”

Without answering Zelena hurried away and Gold turned to his girlfriend with a smirk. “Three times on Sundays? You overestimate me, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that,” Belle murmured, sliding her hands around his neck. “My powers are beyond your comprehension.”

“Indeed. You’ve frightened off a woman I’ve been avoiding for years, and you did it without insulting her. You’re incredible.” He bent to kiss her, and when he pulled back she looked determined.

“I think you should come back upstairs,” she said firmly. “Consider it practice for my birthday.”

“What about _my_ birthday?”

“Oh, alright,” she sighed, pulling him along. “We’ll practice _twice_.”

* * *

_Now_

“Mother, what the hell are you doing here?” Gold sighed.

Relief flooded Belle and left her weak at the knees. The moment the handsome older woman had introduced herself with Rum’s name any number of horrible possibilities had raced through her mind, including a long-lost second wife. With a clearer head Belle could see that while she was still beautiful, Fiona - Mrs. Gold - was about twenty years his senior (not that that precluded a romantic entanglement, of course) and had his dark eyes and high, sharp cheekbones.

“I had the most alarming call from Zelena Mills. She claimed that you had thrown her over and taken up with a woman young enough to be your daughter.” His mother’s eyes swept over her and she sneered. “I can see she was not exaggerating.”

“Considering that I once had an affair with Zelena’s mother, she has a lot of room to talk,” Gold said dryly. “Putting that aside, it was impossible for me to throw her over because I was never involved with her in the first place.”

“Wait...this is about _Zelena_ ?” Belle crossed her arms. “She saw Rum with another woman and _called his mother_?”

“I would appreciate the opportunity to speak to my son in private,” Fiona said coldly. “Do run along, little one.”

Belle bristled and looked at Rum, who rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, you did promise Jefferson you would talk to him later. I’ll be along in a minute. This won’t take long.”

Narrowing her eyes, she leaned up and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, reveling in his little sigh against her mouth. She pulled away and met Fiona’s frosty gaze again with a wide smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Fiona,” she said sweetly. “Enjoy the rest of the show.” She left mother and son alone together, but as soon as she’d re-entered the gallery she allowed her smile to slip away and covered her face with her hands, taking a deep breath.

God, this was the very last thing she needed.

* * *

“She certainly is a sweet young thing.”

Gold sighed and turned back to his mother, his shoulders tensing.

“All that dark hair and fair skin...pretty eyes...fire and spark. She reminds me of someone.” Fiona pressed one finger to her lips and appeared to think deeply. “Ah! Milah, of course. And Cora, certainly, though she is younger than _that_ particular mistake.”

“Belle is nothing like either of them,” Gold said coldly. “She’s their superior in every respect.”

“Heavens, then, Roderick, what on earth is she doing with you?” Fiona laughed. “If _those_ two harpies didn’t find you worth their time, what does _Belle_ see in you?”

“What are you doing here?” Gold asked again, attempting to ignore the twinge in his chest.

“I am _trying_ to keep you from making another mistake.” Fiona stepped forward and put her hand to his cheek. “I’ve looked into her, you know, she’s quite impressive. Intelligent, entrepreneurial, independent. She even convinced Gaston Lefleur to marry her, and that family is as proud as they come. Of course, that didn’t last very long, did it? Poor little Gaston couldn’t keep up with her. Strong women like Belle _need_ strong men to keep up with them, and as much as I love you, Roddy darling, you could never be the man she needs.”

“Your concern for her is touching. And odd, considering that you only just met her.”

“I am concerned for _you_. You’ve been with women like Belle before, and they’ve only hurt you. Zelena...she’s just the sort of young woman who would never abandon you or break your heart.”

“No, she’d merely suck the lifeblood out of me and leave me a dry, useless husk,” Gold sighed. “Mother, did you really come all the way from Boston to try to make me break up with Belle for Zelena’s sake?”

“Of course not. I came for Neal’s wedding.”

“Neal’s…” His brain scrambled to process this new information. “Did...how…”

“The boy invited me, Rum. I _am_ his grandmother, after all, and I should be there to help him celebrate such a happy occasion.” She sniffed. “Though how you could let him entangle himself with that uncouth little _stray_ …”

“Oddly enough, I didn’t _allow_ him to see Emma at all. Neal’s romantic life has always been his own business, and I respect his choices.”

“We all make our own mistakes.”

“We do, and certainly I’ve made my share. And yet, of the two of us, I’m the one whose child can stand to live in the same city with him, and I’m the one with an open invitation to my son’s home.” He smirked when her mouth opened and closed. “What? You weren’t hoping to stay with me, were you? That is most definitely _not_ happening.”

“Why is that, exactly? Planning to have your little girlfriend for a sleepover?”

Gold grinned, sharp and gleaming. “We don’t do much sleeping, to be honest.”

Fiona shuddered and pressed one hand to her forehead. “Roddy, _please_.”

“Even if I weren’t, you’ve got money enough for the best hotel in the city. I’d never dream of allowing you to slum it in my apartment.” Gold stepped toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a beautiful woman to entertain who is, as you’ve pointed out, far too good for me. I’m unwilling to let her think I’m neglecting her. Enjoy the rest of the show. I’ll see you this weekend.”

He found Belle staring at a painting entitled _The Evil Queen._ Stepping up behind her, he slid one arm around her waist and smiled when she started and then melted into his embrace.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

 “Yes. I’m sorry about...well. That.”

Belle nodded. “It’s not all bad, you know, Heller’s stuff. Some of it is...evocative. Challenging.”

Her change of subject worried him a little, but he followed her lead. “Challenging?”

“We’re used to seeing evil in a certain light,” Belle said, “and we often think of the queen from _Snow White_ when we hear of an evil queen.” She tilted her head and studied the painting. “That woman was vain and heartless and completely unsympathetic, but there’s a depth of sadness in this woman. See the hollow look in her eyes? As if there’s a void in her she can’t fill. And she’s wearing white, which doesn’t fit with conventional depictions of evil.”

“Perhaps she wasn’t always evil,” Gold suggested. “Perhaps circumstances changed her.”

“Perhaps.” Belle’s voice was soft and pensive, and Gold looked down at her to find that her eyes were shadowed and serious.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

“I…” she looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and she smiled. “Yeah. I’m just tired. I’m ready to go if you are.”

“You don’t have to stay to the end?”

“No, Charlotte can take it from here.”

“Alright.” He helped her shrug into her coat and escorted her outside. “Are you hungry? We can…”

“Actually, I think...I think I’m just gonna go home.”

Disappointment rushed through him, followed by a pang of anxiety. “Oh. Alright.”

Belle squeezed his arm and smiled slightly. “Don’t look like that. I’ll see you tomorrow or Wednesday. I just...need a night to think, okay? And you...well, you’re very distracting.”

He nodded and helped her flag down a cab, kissing her tenderly before helping her into the cab and waving her off. As he made his own way home, he tried not to worry, but it was difficult. Whatever he’d done to upset her, he hoped she’d give him a chance to fix it before she gave up on him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, cheated a little, here. A TMI Tuesday ask from eons ago (beliza-fryler) asked what would happen if Belle got jealous/possessive of Gold. The first little vignette in this chapter is what I wrote to answer that ask. I just really liked it, and I thought it should be in the story proper, especially to set up the conflict that's about to happen with Fiona, here.
> 
> So...sorry for recycling material. Also sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold narrowly avert disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but hopefully the content makes up for what it lacks in length.

Gold hadn’t heard from Belle in four days.

Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. He’d _heard_ from her, of course. They’d called and texted, but she’d suggested no plans, and been too busy or tired when he ventured to make suggestions of his own. She’d asked him once not to worry, but as Thursday drew to an end he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a panic attack. After racking his brains for two days trying to determine what he’d done to make her go off him, he was rapidly drawing the conclusion that she had realized his mother was right, and that she could do better.

He’d always known that, of course, but he’d begun to believe that she disagreed.

He was scraping leftovers of his dinner into a container - after a few months of cooking for two the habit was hard to break - when the bell rang, and he frowned, wondering who on earth would be calling at this hour.

“Yes?” he barked into the speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Can I come up?”

He didn’t think he’d ever pushed that damn button so quickly in his life. Within moments he heard her knock, and he swung the door open.

“Hey,” Belle said, her hands clutched nervously in front of her.

“Hey.”

“Sorry, I probably should have called, but I was in the neighborhood and I really wanted to see you.” She shrugged sheepishly. “It’s been a while.”

He nodded mutely, torn between absolving her of showing up unannounced and demanding to know when she was going to put him out of his misery.

“So, can I...can I come in?”

Starting, he realized that she was still standing in the hallway and he hadn’t actually invited her in. He took a step back and she walked past him, her hands still clinging to each other.

“Were you eating? I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“No, I’d just finished. I have some left over if you…”

“No, I ate earlier, I’m fine.”

God, this was the most stilted conversation they’d ever had. Gold cast about in his mind for something to ask her - _anything_ , really - and came up blank. They stared at each other a few minutes more, and Belle began to blush.

“Maybe I should…”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah...white wine, if you have it.”

He kept a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay chilled at all times, but for some reason this didn’t seem the best time to mention it. Instead he fetched glasses and the bottle and gestured for her to sit at the island in the kitchen, and she took a long sip of the generous glass he poured for her.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last on a sigh. “I know I’ve been kind of...stand-offish lately.”

“You said you needed a night to think.”

“Yeah...I guess maybe I thought too much, because then I couldn’t stop, and then I was afraid to stop, and then...I just got caught up in my own head.”

“What did I do wrong?” Gold hated the sound of his voice as he asked, hated that he sounded so weak and sad, but dammit, he’d been doing so well. _They’d_ been doing well.

“Nothing!” She reached out and grasped his hand, her eyes wide and urgent. “I swear, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re...wonderful.”

Gently he turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with hers. “But something _is_ wrong.”

“I...well, it’s...it’s your mother,” Belle said hesitantly.

“My mother?” he frowned. “Has she contacted you?”

“No, it’s just...Rum, I just got rid of a disapproving mother, y’know? I mean, I don’t blame you for not mentioning her, but a little warning would have been nice.”

In an instant, her discomfort and silence made perfect sense. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said, squeezing her hand. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I saw her face,” Belle insisted. “She _loathes_ me, and I don’t even know why.”

“No, that’s not quite it,” Gold said slowly. He wondered how he could possibly explain his mother to someone unused to her.

“I’ve been here before, I recognize the signs.” Belle’s voice was flat, and she took another drink of her wine. “I want to be with you, but I don’t know if I can deal with all that again.”

Well, now he _had_ to explain, because the thought of losing Belle because of his fucking _mother_ made his heart do terrifying and impossible things. “She doesn’t hate you, Belle. She’s impressed with you - you’re strong and intelligent and ambitious - all qualities she admires.”

“Then why did she look at me like I was something disgusting you’d tracked in on your shoe?”

“Because,” he refilled her wine glass, carefully avoiding her eyes, “she finds your taste in men...questionable.”

He could feel Belle’s confusion. “She doesn’t like Gaston? How does she know him?”

“She’s never met Gaston, as far as I’m aware.”

The weight of her gaze was nearly suffocating, and he focused on a drop of condensation that was slowly creeping down the bottle’s neck. Belle’s thumb tapped against the side of his hand softly, and he knew she was thinking about his words.

“You don’t mean...you?”

He sighed, lifting his eyes to hers. “I do.”

“But...that doesn’t make any sense. She wants you to be with Zelena - why…”

“She hates Zelena.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Belle said, shaking her head. “She’s _your_ mother. Shouldn’t she be convinced that no woman is good enough for you?”

“Apparently I have too much of my father in me,” he said sourly, and then winced when Belle’s grip on his hand grew unbearably tight. He tried to pull away, and she loosened her grip.

“That is the most _despicable_ thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, her eyes blazing.

“At least you know that the problem isn’t you,” he said, smiling weakly. “It’s me.”

“What? No!” Belle stood and moved to stand in front of him. “ _She’s_ the one with the bloody problem, Rum. You are smart and sweet and funny and...I mean, I’d think she’d at least be proud of how successful you are!”

Gold shrugged. “I’ve never quite measured up to her expectations.”

Belle let out what could only be described as a roar of outrage. “I...I can’t even...of all the ridiculous…” Shaking her head, she paced the length of the kitchen and then came back, her mouth set in a determined line. “You more than measure up to my expectations, okay? You _exceed_ them.”

He really had no idea what to say to that.

“Shit.” Belle sighed and crossed her arms. “This isn’t...God, this _really_ isn’t the way I wanted to do this, but…I can’t _not_.”

“Can’t not what?

She shook her head and took his hand, pulling him off the stool he’d sat on and leading him into his living room.

“Okay, so look,” she said when they were both seated on the couch. She was kneeling next to him so that she faced him fully, her beautiful face serious and a bit nervous. “The last few days - they’ve _sucked_ , and not just because I didn’t get to see you. That was part of it, but...I was pretty sure I couldn’t deal with another Beryl, which meant I couldn’t be with you anymore, and thinking about that was...it was _awful_. Sometimes I couldn’t breathe thinking about it.”

“Belle, I…”

“And that’s why I stayed away longer, because I couldn’t...I knew if I saw you, I’d either have to break up with you or decide that I was okay with your mother hating me. So if I just didn’t see you, neither had to happen, y’know? Like Schrodinger’s cat. We could be together and not together at the same time.” She huffed a small laugh and plucked at a stray thread hanging from her sleeve. “Of course, that could only go on for so long. And tonight I decided I was done with being a coward, and that I would do the brave thing, and just hope bravery would follow.”

For one fleeting second he was terrified that breaking up with him was the brave thing, and she must have seen that in his face because she leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow and lingering, and when she pulled back he felt a little more grounded, a little less like the bottom was about to fall out of his world.

“So here goes,” she said, shifting a little closer and reaching out to cup his cheek with her hand. Her fingers slid back and into his hair and she took a deep breath. “Roderick...I love you.”

* * *

Belle had about half a second to be afraid that Roderick’s flabbergasted expression was about to morph into embarrassment and pity, and then she found herself clutched to his chest as if he thought he could meld them into one being, his mouth hot and insistent on hers. Relief flooded her and she melted into him, moving so that she was seated across his knees, both hands buried in his hair.

“Love you too,” he murmured when he pulled back. “So much, Belle, you have no idea…”

She smiled and touched her forehead to his, marveling at how much better she felt having heard him say it. She’d had an inkling - he had a way of looking at her as if she were the sun, bright enough to blot out everything else around them - but it was a relief to say the words aloud, and to hear them in return. She kissed him again, teasing her way into his mouth and trying to pull him closer, her hands clutching at his hair.

When he nipped at her bottom lip she whimpered, and he growled in response, pushing her down until she lay beneath him on the couch. This was one of the advantages of neither of them being particularly tall, Belle thought as she welcomed the warm weight of him between her legs; the couch was more than large enough for their purposes. As he kissed and nibbled his way down her throat she tried to loosen his tie but found that he was too close and didn’t seem at all interested in giving her an opening.

“Rum, your clothes,” she whined, tugging lightly on his tie.

He grunted and pulled back a little, his eyes dark and a little wild. “Bedroom?” he asked, and Belle bit her lip, slowly shaking her head. “Good. Couldn’t make it anyway.” He dipped his head to kiss her again, but Belle pushed against him until he was sitting upright. She straddled his thighs, gasping a little when she felt him beneath her, already hard. His hands slid up her thighs and under her skirt and she shifted restlessly as his thumbs pressed against the gusset of her underwear.

“ _Please_ ,” she said against his lips, tugging lightly on his hair.

One of his fingers slipped inside her panties, his touch much too gentle to satisfy her, and she pressed her hips down, chasing the friction she needed so desperately, but he pulled back, teasing her until she was almost growling with frustration.

Well, two could play this game. She released her hold on his hair and attacked his belt and flies, reluctantly impressed that he was able to help her slide everything out of the way while still driving her insane. His rhythm faltered when she wrapped her hand around him and she grinned, slowly stroking him from root to tip.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Brilliant,” he said, his teeth clenched, and then his hands were on her waist, tugging her closer. Belle reached down and pulled her panties aside so that she could sink down on him, and...well, she hadn’t exactly come here for this, but when she thought about it she should have known it was inevitable. They hadn’t seen each other in days, and she’d known they were headed either for heartache or reunion, so there was at least a fifty-fifty chance they’d end up here.

She’d missed him too much, wanted him for too long, been too eager to have him - and even under normal circumstances he was so _incredibly_ good at making her come undone. She wasn’t in the least surprised when she unraveled after only a few minutes, and she smiled against his neck when he followed her almost immediately, gasping her name and holding her so tightly it nearly hurt..

When they’d both caught their breath, they relocated to his bedroom, and as she slipped under the covers and into the circle of his arms, Belle felt tears prick at her eyes as the enormity of what had almost happened caught up to her. They were in love, and they’d almost lost each other. She pressed a little closer to him, smiling when she felt his arms tighten around her, and she suspected that if she could look up she’d see the same realization dawning on him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice raspy, and the words thrilled through her now in a way they hadn’t before. In the heat of the moment, when they were clutching each other and soaring to dizzying heights, anyone could say anything. But here, in the dark and silence with no impetus driving the words other than his own feelings, they felt more real, more meaningful.

“I love you, too,” she said.

She felt his lips brush her hair and she sighed, closing her eyes and letting the first waves of sleep wash over her.

They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I UPDATED SOMETHING WAHT


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Emma tie the knot, and Gold has a few more revelations.

Mary Margaret Nolan was a force to be reckoned with, Gold thought as he stepped out onto the patio of his law partner’s spacious vacation home. In a single week, she’d managed to transform her backyard into a floral paradise. Emma was dressed in a simple knee-length sheath dress, her shoulders bare and her hair falling around her face in waves. As he watched, Neal walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed a kiss to the back of her head, and she twisted in his embrace to smile up at him. Gold smiled, too, a lump forming in his throat as he thought about the vows they’d exchanged, and the tears that had pooled in Neal’s eyes as he’d agreed to take Emma for richer or poorer, as long as they both lived.

Emma hadn’t exactly been dry-eyed, either, which was a minor miracle.

“He looks happy enough.”

Gold smothered a sigh and turned to face his mother, who had sat the entire ceremony with a face like a lemon. “He is.”

“I hope it will last,” Fiona sniffed. “Though certainly precedent is against him. I always say children need strong role models in their parents in order to thrive.”

“Neal is one of the strongest people I know,” Gold said mildly. He poured a glass of iced tea and offered it to her.

“Have you lost your mind?” she sneered. “You’ve been in this country too long if you drink that vile stuff.”

Gold grinned, shrugged, and downed half the glass. “I’ll admit, I avoided it as long as I could, but Belle loves iced tea, and I’ve found it refreshing from time to time.”

“I thought I heard my name.” Belle popped up beside him and plucked the glass from his fingers. “It was a beautiful ceremony, Rum. They look gorgeous together. Don’t you think so, Fiona?”

Fiona pressed her lips together. “They do make a handsome couple, I must admit,” she said begrudgingly. “Neal always did take after his mother.”

“I don’t know,” Belle said thoughtfully. “He definitely has his father’s eyes, and they both have the same beautiful smile.”

It was rather remarkable, how smoothly Belle deflected all of his mother’s insults. He’d never realized before how much of her conversation consisted of thinly-veiled barbs at him, but with Belle by his side he felt impervious to them. She turned all of Fiona’s negativity on its head and complimented him at the same time, and after about ten minutes Fiona walked away, her face blank and hard.

“Your mother is...challenging,” Belle said when she’d gone.

He chuckled. “She is that.”

“She makes me want to do incredibly inappropriate things.”

Well, that sounded promising. “Like what?”

“Like...I dunno...jumping up on that table and dancing the can-can.”

“I’ll hold your tea for you.” He reached for the glass, but she smirked and pulled it out of his reach.

“Shut up, I’m not going to do it,” she said. “I just really, _really_ want to. Beryl had that effect on me too.”

“You do know it’s not…”

“I know,” Belle sighed. “I know, it’s not me she disapproves of. To be honest, it might be easier if it _was_ me. I can’t stand the way she talks to you.”

“She’s going back to England tomorrow,” he said soothingly, “and I doubt we’ll see her again for a very long time, if ever.”

“You really know how to sweet-talk a girl,” Belle smiled, putting the glass down on a nearby table. “Come on, dance with me. It’s a slow song, you’ll be fine.”

He allowed her to lead him onto the impromptu dance floor and took her in his arms, grateful that there were a few other couples swaying around them. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm golden light over everything. A few yards away his precious boy was dancing with the love of his life, and Belle was gazing up into his eyes and smiling, and in that moment he knew perfect happiness. If he could have just this for the rest of his life, he would consider himself a fortunate man.

“Mind if I cut in, Papa?”

Gold blinked and looked up at Neal and Emma. “If the lady has no objections,” he said, taking a small step back. Belle smiled and took Neal’s hand, and Gold turned away.

“Not so fast,” Emma said, snagging his arm. “I haven’t danced with my new father-in-law yet.”

Dancing with Emma was a little more difficult. He could not wrap his arms around her and lean on her as he could with Belle, but as long as they stayed more or less motionless he wouldn’t embarrass either of them.

“So have you told her yet?” Emma asked with a mischievous smile.

“Told her what?”

“That you’re crazy in love with her.”

“Oh. Aye, I have.”

“You _have_ ?” Emma’s jaw dropped and she stopped dancing mid-sway. “Seriously? I thought you’d fight it for _months_.”

“Well, I might have, but for the fact that Belle is significantly braver than I am.”

“Ah. She said it first.” Emma nodded thoughtfully. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“Yes, my cowardice is well-known,” Gold grumbled.

“I wouldn’t call it cowardice,” Emma said. “It’s more like...caution. You’ve been burned pretty badly in the past; no one would blame you for being a little skittish.” She glanced at her new husband. “I’ve been there, believe me.”

“You?” Gold scoffed. “You track down criminals on a daily basis, dearie. You’re the least skittish person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not the same thing. You know as well as I do that risking your heart is a lot scarier than risking anything else. Neither of us is that great at being vulnerable.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s worth it, though, don’t you think?”

Gold glanced at his girlfriend, who has laughing at something his son had said. “Undoubtedly.”

* * *

Later that night, as Belle snoozed on his shoulder on the couch, Gold allowed himself a few moments of fantasy. He imagined that they’d come home (the both of them, to the apartment or house that they shared) after an afternoon with his son and daughter-in-law (perhaps the Nolans would have joined them, perhaps not), and that when they awoke the next morning, neither of them would have to rush off for a change of clothes or something they realized they’d needed but had left at their own place the night before. He imagined that they would have Regina and Millie over for dinner now and again, that Belle would fall asleep on the couch waiting for him if he were working a particularly difficult case (or _he_ would wait for _her_ if an artist was being especially demanding at the gallery), that Belle would protest against being called “Grandma” by Neal and Emma’s children but secretly adore it and proclaim spoiling them with books and toys a step-grandmother’s prerogative.

He knew it was much too soon to bring up any of that, but he was a patient man. Beside him, Belle hummed in her sleep and snuggled closer, and he tightened his arm around her. There would be time for moving in, and double dates, and dinner parties. Perhaps more, if he was very lucky, and before he could stop himself a vision of Belle in a white gown swam before his eyes. He shook his head to dispel the image and sank a little farther into the couch cushions, pulling Belle with him, careful not to disturb her.

There would be time for that later. There would be time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the actual end of this story. A sequel is possible, but not at the moment. I just feel this part of the story has played itself out.
> 
> To everyone who's read and/or commented and/or kudos'ed along the way: you are all amazing and I love you. Thanks for joining me on this little journey.


End file.
